With No Regrets
by Moni Hasnone
Summary: Morgana returns to Camelot, seeking vengeance against the kingdom that wronged her. When an unknown sorcerer reveals Merlin's magic to hellbent witch, the fates of the witch, the warlock and the young prince may forever be changed. Set during 3x01 Tears of Uther Pendragon. No slash. Mergana/Arwen. AU. Please read and review! (Magic Reveal)
1. Prologue

Title: With No Regrets

Genre:

Prologue:

The first rays of sunlight descended onto the sleeping Earth in its usual conquest of the night's realm. The entrance to the magical lake bustled with the start of a new day, the energy of life itself coursing through each ripple that emanated from the center to the sandy shores. The younger faeries slowly poked out of their hiding spots behind the glistening leaves of the ancient trees that guarded the lake, buzzing softly as they drifted across the lake surface.

It was a rather common morning for the residents of Avalon, but none the less beautiful. The faeries mischievously chased each other, flirting their shimmering silver wings. A single woman rose from the waters, taking delicate steps across the surface to reach the shore. She softly sat at the edge, letting the water lap her feet as she reached out and allowed a baby fairy to settle on her finger. The Lady of the Lake smiled sweetly as she watched the lake come to life.

A Sidhe elder suddenly drifted onto the surface, making his way to his governess. "Milady," the elder called out, as he bowed respectfully. "A storm is coming. I believe you should retire."

"Why, Elder," Freya called out, allowing the child in her palm to flutter away. "I had just come out."

"Yes, milady. However, it seems destiny is at play today." Freya's eyes darkened at that statement. "It is time." She simply nodded, dissolving into water as she exited the human realm. The Sidhe elder looked towards the sky and watched as the dark clouds engulf the sun.

The storm has come.

And just as the first lightning struck the lake, illuminating the surface, a black cloaked figure materialized at the shores.

"Mighty Sidhe!" The cloaked figure roared, and yet the desperate pleading was evident in his call. "I beg you, please. Save my loved ones."

The Elder projected himself to his full form, the blue fairy's anger clearly evident in his face. "Why should we help you? We told you several times, you have nothing to offer."

"I offer you my life, please," the cloaked figure fell to his knees, his pale hands grabbing at the dirt underneath. "If my loved ones live just one more day, I will be content. I can die with no regrets." When the Sidhe didn't reply, he lifted his head. "I watched my family perish in front of my eyes, helpless to prevent their deaths." His voice cracked with unmasked agony.

"Your loved ones' deaths are not on our heads. Blame Camelot for your despair," the Sidhe replied, turning away just as he had in the previous encounters. He would leave, like he had the several times before, and the broken man before him would weep, calling out for several hours afterwards until he finally left only to return the next morning.

"Please," the figure begged. "I can't live like this. Please, I'm willing to do anything." The man bent over, placing his head on the ground.

And those were the words that the Sidhe wanted to hear. He looked around the lake, making sure that no other were listening to their conversation. "Anything?"

The cloak looked up, a glimmer of hope rekindled in his weary eyes. "Anything."

The Sidhe smirked and turned to face the man. "It won't be easy."

The tear stained face returned the gaze with determination. "I am willing."

"Then I ask for the life of Emrys," the Elder replied, to the utter shock of the cloaked man. "And I will bring every one of your loved back to life."

"The life of Emrys?" the broken man whispered back.

The Sidhe nodded. "The young warlock in disguise as the Prince Arthur's servant at Camelot." The cloaked figure stumbled to his feet.

"Emrys is immortal," the man started hesitantly. The Sidhe nodded, just as the storm raging around them settled down. "How will I?" The Elder glanced briefly around the space once more. After all, Lady Freya had an uncanny affinity towards the powerful warlock, and the last thing the Elder wanted was to anger the Queen of this lake. He reached into his ragged cloak, revealing a gleaming dagger. The hilt was crystal, black tendrils intertwined around the handle for a better grip. He handed the dagger to the cloaked man.

"The blade forged in the flames of the Great Dragon and tainted with the poisonous blood from the questing beast," The Sidhe explained as the other man observed the blade, cautiously turning the deadly weapon in his hand. "The hilt made from the crystals of Crystal Cave." The Elder smirked, a triumphant gaze in his eyes. "No mortal man can withstand a simple scratch from the blade. Imbed this blade into the heart of Emrys, and nothing can save his life."

The man broke his gaze from the blade, looking up at the Sidhe with surprise. "This blade was created for the death of Emrys." The silence was a simple confirmation of the statement.

"Will you do it?" The replying nod was immediate, no hesitation in his eyes. The Sidhe smiled again. "I know you would, my broken friend. I know your love for your fallen ones." The blue fairy tossed the other man a plain black sheath.

The cloaked man slowly sheathed the dagger before carefully placing the blade into the depths of his black robes.

The eyes flashed molten gold for a brief moment before replaced by the burning flame of vengeance. And the Black Sorcerer no longer stood in front of the lake, but instead in front of the pristine white towers of Camelot.

 **A/N: It has been a long long time since I wrote a Merlin fic. I'm trying to get back into the language style used for fictional story telling (after 3 years of non-stop scientific report writing). I hope to finish this story as soon as I can (since I am limited on time) so I will try to update as frequently as I can.**

" **With No Regrets" is a story that I had been developing long before "Spirits' Secrets" (another of my fics that had been on hiatus for a long time). This story idea is probably my most favorite amongst all the ideas I had come up with. Given three years to refine the idea so much, I ended up making this initially one-shot fic into a multi-chaptered fun ride with more characters joining the bandwagon.**

 **This story takes place during Season 3, episode 1 (you'll see in the first chapter). For storyline purposes, Gwaine has already met Merlin and the entire fiasco in Camelot thanks to Gwaine has happened. Elyan and Percival don't know much about Camelot, but they'll probably also be a part of this story.**

 **Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please leave a review or a comment!**


	2. Chapter 1: The Sleeping Gargoyle

Chapter 1: The Sleeping Gargoyle

The Sleeping Gargoyle was busier than normal, as the drunk men banged their tankards onto the wooden tables, cheering as a certain long-haired charming man was currently arm wrestling a rather oversized burly man. Gisele made her way into the circle, setting a tankard of mead next to the brunette. She risked a glance up at the man, a fatal mistake on her part, as Gwaine winked back, whistling as he effortlessly held his weight against his opponent.

"Good Evening, Gorgeous," Gwaine called out, above all the roars. And Gisele felt herself sway, holding onto the table as she involuntarily smiled. "Haven't seen you here before. First day?"

And his arm tilted the wrong way, the giant man gaining an upper hand on the match. Gisele noticed the younger man struggle to push himself back to the original stand still position, before returning his attention to the woman standing in front.

"Shouldn't you focus on the match?" Gisele asked, smiling slyly. Gwaine winked again, and the tavern lady couldn't help but feel light headed. How was this man doing this?

"Ever heard of the tale of David and the Goliath?" Gwaine asked. The howls got louder as he gained the upper hand.

"Of course," the woman acknowledged. "So, are you David?"

Gwaine grunted in effort, pushing the other man over and completing the match. The crowd cheered once more, as the younger picked up the bag of coins at the side of the table and he stood up. "Thank you, gentlemen," Gwaine addressed the crowd. He gave an exaggerated bow to his audience before looking at his defeated opponent, who held his head in his arms. It seems that the larger man had placed far too much money on this match. Some men walked up to him, animatedly talking about owing them money, but Gwaine ignored the conversation, opting instead to flirt with the bar maid.

He filled in the small gap between the woman and himself, standing mere inches away from her as he leaned forward. She didn't lean back, and considered the hazel brown eyes of the taller man. "No," he whispered conspiratorially. "I'm the Goliath." He looked down suggestively and Gisele felt herself blush involuntarily. "That is, if you want to see."

Gisele placed a hand on his shirt, clenching the cloth, as she pulled him closer. "Then I'll be David," she whispered, before closing the gap, kissing the older man on the lips for a good minute. She pushed him back roughly. "Meet me upstairs if you want to give that fight a try," She called back as she walked away. Gwaine stared in a lazy daze after the woman, his breath knocked out.

"Oh, she's going to be good," the drunkard mumbled to himself, swinging the tankard and taking a large full sip, fully intending to make his way after his new love after finishing his drink. He looked down at his mead. "Don't worry," he told the tankard, "I'm not cheating on you, my love. I just think she'll taste better than you." And he chuckled to himself unashamedly.

On the other side of the tavern, Lancelot watched the entire spectacle of the arm wrestling match, very much amused. He personally didn't know either man in the match, but found an interesting connection with the brazen youth, who currently was flirting with the bar maid.

Lancelot sighed as he took a sip from his tankard. It has been well over a year since he left Camelot, and yet, amongst his recent adventures, the time he spent in Camelot somehow left a lasting impression. Perhaps he owed such a memorable experience to a certain gangly and loyal manservant. He had wanted to go back to the kingdom and check up on the servant and his prince, but an unrequited love kept him afar.

He turned around to find his new friend downing another tankard of mead. "Percival," Lancelot called out to the larger man. "Slow down on the drink, my friend. We don't want you getting sick." Percival didn't reply, opting instead to get another tankard. Normally, the gentle man wouldn't drink as much, but tonight was special. Tonight marked the day he lay helpless as Cenred's men murdered his family in front of his eyes.

Lancelot squeezed the man's shoulder, a small gesture of comfort and didn't say anymore to the dejected man. The noble (but not Noble) man had met the gentle knight when they fought an interesting battle with a band of boulder trolls in a valley just beyond the Perilous Lands. Since then, both men had traveled together, aiming to help any village they can from any threats (magical or not). Their travels did get them closer to Camelot, settling in Mercia's finest Tavern.

Frankly, Lancelot wanted to drink more as well, especially while observing the arm-wrestle winner strike a score with the bar maid. Maybe he should have been more bold with his love for Guinevere.

The doors to the tavern opened, letting the cold night air in, along with weary knights, clad in red cloaks. Camelot red.

"Oi!" Gwaine yelled over the dismayed noise from the crowd. "Who brought the cold air in? We'll have to warm up this tavern, won't we?" The drunkard waved towards another blushing bar maid.

The group of knights simply gave Gwaine a half-hearted glare, before trudging to the settle their exhausted bodies at the nearest table. "Oh, if it isn't for Camelot's finest knights," Gwaine said haughtily. One of the newer recruits felt himself burn up. The drunkard made his way to the table, no doubt having one too many drinks to judge his actions. Lancelot got up, feeling a little anger himself at the manner this young man addressed the group of knights he so adored. "How is your princess?"

"We don't have a princess," the recruit replied, innocently confused. Gwaine's eyes twinkled mischievously.

"Oh, I meant Arthur," Gwaine slurred, thoroughly enjoying the fury reflected in the eyes of the knights. Even Lancelot felt himself burn, and he made his way to the other man, intending to speak with the other man before the knights decided poke certain pointy objects into the man. Or join them when they decide to impale the man, whichever came first.

One of the knights must have felt same, as he rose, clenching his fist around Gwaine's shirt, holding the man threateningly. "You dare insult our prince in such manner," growled the knight.

Gwaine shrugged the best he could in his position. "Yep," he replied, unusually cheerfully. The knight pulled his sword, letting the drunkard go, and pointing the sword at his throat. "What, the noble knights of Camelot will fight an unarmed man?" Gwaine taunted. Lancelot watched, awed. Did this man not notice the danger of his current situation?

"Let him go," a voice called from the door.

The knight glanced up from his target, deciding to redirect his anger to whoever dared to support the rouge. And his face deflated immediately. "Yes, sir."

Gwaine twirled around. Sir Leon of Camelot stood at the entrance of the tavern. The senior knight watched as the young rogue smirked, setting his tankard aside. "I think he was talking to me," Gwaine informed the younger knight, who had lowered his sword. Leon just smiled, neither denying nor confirming.

The knight politely closed the door behind him as he made his way toward the source of the commotion in the bar.

"Sir Leon of Camelot," Gwaine addressed, an unusual respect making its way into his voice.

"Gwaine," Leon nodded, before waving his hand towards his knight to put his sword away.

"Sire, he insulted our Prince," the knight started, before stopping as he watched Leon reach out to Gwaine in a handshake the senior knight only reserves for the best of his knights.

"It's fine, Sir Bedivere," Leon said. "This man saved Prince Arthur's life months prior."

"Yep and banished by your kind King for helping," Gwaine stated smugly.

Leon's eyebrow rose in a manner rivaling Gaius. "I may be more forgiving of your language, but don't test my patience, Gwaine." Gwaine simply shrugged in reply and took another swing at his tankard.

"Just think of this man similar to Merlin," Leon explained Bedivere. "They may mock our royalty, in a rather public manner, but they do hold Prince Arthur's best interest at heart."

"Not me, good knight," the rogue countered as he leaned forward onto the table, all the drinks finally hitting the man. The knights pulled back, disgusted. "I only care for Merlin." Leon smiled at that statement. "Just so happens that Merlin cares for Arthur."

Lancelot smiled at that, relaxing as he listened to the conversation. "Sir Leon," he called out as he watched the knight help Gwaine into a chair at another table sufficiently further from where the knights sat. The knight looked up, pleasantly surprised to see Lancelot.

"Lancelot," Leon greeted back. "This is definitely a pleasant surprise," the knight said as he settled into another chair and gestured his hand towards the empty chair across. "The two most memorable men, both of whom pretended to be knights to save Prince Arthur's life."

At that statement, Gwaine looked at Lancelot. It wasn't hard to see that Gwaine and Lancelot were polar opposites of each other. And yet, it was obvious they had many things in common. "It seems that both of us have the honor of acquiring Merlin's friendship as well," Lancelot said, as he reached his arm out to Gwaine. The other man looked questioningly at the hand, either too drunk to spatially analyze the required effort to reach or simply desiring to learn more of how Lancelot met Merlin.

Leon smiled gently. "Yes, Lancelot saved Merlin first from the Griffin." Gwaine's eyes widened at that.

"Well, my friend," the drunk man slurred. "Any friend of Merlin's is a friend of mine." And he attempted to clasp the Lancelot's arm. And missed by a long shot.

The two men chuckled, as Lancelot grabbed Gwaine's arm himself. Gwaine gazed up at the other man, smiling good naturedly. He dragged the man down, pushing him into the nearest chair. "So fellas, what brings you to the Sleeping Gargoyle?"

"We've been following on King Uther's orders and attempting to locate the whereabouts of Lady Morgana," Leon started, the unasked question of whether they heard anything about the King's ward was heard in his hesitant statement. Neither men gave any more information, simply nodding in understanding. "What brought you young men so close to Camelot? I do hope both of you understand you are banished from our kingdom."

"Didn't stop me from dropping in several times the past couple of months," Gwaine informed the senior knight. Leon's eyebrow rose again. "Merlin knew. Ask him."

"I haven't heard anything about you breaking Camelot's rules, Gwaine," Leon stated lightly, turning to Lancelot instead.

"I'm traveling with Percival," Lancelot replied, turning to point to the giant man in the corner of tavern, currently sleeping soundly on the table. "We've been helping out several villages on the outskirts of different kingdoms, putting our skills to good use." Leon nodded approvingly. Lancelot may not be of noble born, but even the senior knight acknowledged the nobility inbuilt in his personality. "And you Gwaine?"

Gwaine smiled good naturedly, flipping his hair in his traditional charisma. "Where the best ale is, I follow." And he took another gulp from his tankard. "Besides, the earnings from bar games are the best," he said triumphantly as he held his bag of money. A sudden thought crossed his mind, and Gwaine stood up abruptly. "Bloody hell, I forgot about my love!"

Lancelot laughed as Leon watched the horrified man trying to make his way around the table. "He flirted with this woman just before you came," Lancelot explained the knight. Leon joined the laugh as they watched Gwaine give up and settle back into the chair. All three men relaxed, each enjoying the small moment of peace after their individual adventures (regardless of patrols, trolls, or interesting bar games).

And the night only darkened as time passed. The moon shined brightly on the Sleeping Gargoyle, illuminating the tavern in the outskirts of Mercia. A lonely figure made his way to the tavern, his black cloak billowing behind him, and his golden eyes identified that Camelot's patrol had taken the night off in the building in front of him.

And the Black Sorcerer walked forwards, his pale hand outstretched in front of him and the ancient language articulated from his mouth as he blasted the large wooden door off its hinges. Some unfortunate soul standing behind the entrance got caught as the large plank of wood fell on him, flattening him to the ground. The sorcerer walked on the plank, his black boots clicked against the hard surface before he stepped down onto the face of the felled man and down again onto the tavern floor. Each foot step echoed across the now silent tavern. A giant man in the corner of the tavern startled from his sleep, his hands already grasping the hilt of his sword. Everyone sober enough rose to their feet, fear evident in their eyes.

Except for a certain trio standing around the table at the left side of the tavern. Gwaine felt himself sober up, as he reached for his tankard for an entirely different reason.

"Can I help you?" one man asked skeptically, as he made his way through the crowd to the lone figure that walked to the center of the tavern.

"No." It was a succinct silent reply, before the pale hand rose once again and blasted the poor man to the back of the tavern. He collided painfully with the back wall, before sliding down, leaving a bloody streak down the wall. He slumped against the wall, his chest no longer rising. Dead.

And all hell broke loose.

Men and women ran in panic, attempting to squeeze through the entrance, just as Percival, Leon, Lancelot, and Gwaine charged at the black clad man, their swords (and tankard) aimed at the offender. The Camelot's brave ran close behind the four men.

And the sorcerer was unfazed, catching the cloak of the nearest knight who dared to charge at him unarmed. And Sir Bedivere found himself facing his comrades, a thin arm wrapped around his neck tightly. A simple twist, and he knew his neck would break. And the men surrounding him stilled instantaneously.

"Sir Leon!" The sorcerer called, a certain mirth reflecting in his voice, his eyes shone with madness. "Oh my, if it isn't for Camelot's Round Table of knights." The hood looked around the semi-circle formed around him, specifically at the four men on the front lines. "Sir Lancelot, Sir Percival, and Sir Gwaine as well! Absolutely splendid." His voice was a hazy whisper, despite the teasing tone. And if there was any confusion in what he stated, the men didn't let it show in their eyes.

The tavern had emptied out, leaving only the knights (and the three men) to face the sorcerer. Some of the knights in the back row started to move in attempt to surround the perpetrator completely. The Black Sorcerer noticed, the words of ancient tongue pouring out his mouth as his eyes flashed dangerous gold, impaling an abandoned sword straight through one knight. The men turned just in time to see the corpse hit the ground.

"Ah, please refrain from trying to be a hero," the madman told them. "I fear your deaths would not be as painless otherwise. Especially not," and he tightened his arm around Bedivere, "this young man."

Leon felt his fist tighten around the hilt of his sword, but he still lowered it, signaling to his men to do the same. Lancelot and Percival followed suit, while Gwaine lowered his tankard down as well.

"That's much better," The sorcerer acknowledged, his hood moving in a fashion that suggested he was nodding. "So where was I? Ah, yes. The knights of the Round Table. Except you aren't complete, are you? Sir Elyan is missing."

"Sorcerer," Leon spat. What was this madman about? No Elyan existed in Camelot's ranks, and Lancelot, Gwaine and Percival were definitely not knights – not even of this Round Table.

"Yes," the man whispered back, somewhat hushed. "I see, you haven't formed the Round Table yet. That's right. Morgana is missing right now, isn't she?"

"That's Lady Morgana!" A voice called from the back.

"She is no lady." The man replied, an anger making its way in. "And I could care less for the royalty of Camelot. If I could take away from Uther all he has taken from me, if I could give him even the smallest portion of the pain I endured due to his selfish agenda, believe me, I would."

Leon felt his blood turn cold. This was another man who probably blamed Arthur for the decisions made by Uther. In any case, having seen the dangers of magic, Leon could barely contradict Uther's judgement.

"No, I won't harm your precious despot king, nor his interesting set of children. No, my goal is set on a different life. I'm here to simply talk, and I will spare this rookie knight." The figure bargained.

Leon gulped, not intending to put any more men at risk, but also unwilling to aid a sorcerer in any manner. He made his decision quickly and looked into the darkened eyes of the man before him. "What do you want?"

"Have you found your Morgana?"

Leon gazed intently into the man, wondering why this was such important information. Deciding he didn't have much to lose, he replied, "No."

"How long has it been since she left?" the man asked eagerly, loosening his grip ever-so-slightly around Bedivere's neck. But still not enough.

Leon shrugged. "About a year."

"Exact amount of time." He demanded, his voice strengthened somewhat, but an airy touch to his articulation.

"A year, 1 month and 4 days," Leon answered honestly. He had kept track of everyday he saw Uther's and Arthur's desperate face. And he had kept track of all the time he spent on the fool's quest to find the Lady of Camelot.

The sorcerer's eyes widened, and if the men could see into his dark hood, they would see the start of an evil smile. "That's when Arthur finds Morgana. It's almost time, gentlemen," he whispered. He cleared his throat, but still continued his speech in the whisper. "Don't worry. You're probably confused about the Round Table. But once I'm finished, the Round Table will never form." He let out something in between a scoff and a laugh.

Pushing Bedivere towards Gwaine, he started chanting in the ancient tongue, as a shield of wind picked up around him, flapping his cloak around the room. Gwaine caught the younger knight, letting him slide to the ground as the rogue also fell to his knees. The remainder knights gathered around both men, intending to get a closer inspection of their fallen comrade.

"Wait!" Gwaine called back. An unsettled feeling was still at the pit of his stomach, and frankly, Gwaine didn't know if it was because of all those drinks or just a bad premonition. It didn't matter, he still wanted to know the answer. "Who are you after in Camelot?"

"Why do you care, Sir Gwaine?" the voice teased back. "Do you want to save him? I'll entertain your heroism. I intend to kill – "

And the sorcerer disappeared, leaving only the damage as the indication he had entered the tavern. The men stood shocked.

Because all of them had heard exactly who the Sorcerer vowed to assassinate.

 _I intend to kill Prince Arthur's manservant. Merlin._

 **[Merlin Merlin Merlin]**

Merlin paced the entire length of the physician's chambers nervously, his hands twisting together and his gaze intent on the floor. Morgana was back.

It had been another quest, that Merlin had assumed would be another fail at finding the Lady Morgana. Part of him was happy with his presumption: he didn't know how he could face his – dare he say – friend after his betrayal. Part of him was worried, having nothing this past year to quell his concern for the condition of the woman he adored.

 _Morgana is strong_ , he told himself, just the way he had hundreds of times before. _Morgana is gentle, and kind,_ he added for himself now. Surely, she would understand what circumstances led the secret warlock into that situation. She would forgive him, wouldn't she?

 _Morgana was scared. Morgana had magic,_ a small part of his mind spoke out, overshadowing any positive thoughts he had left. _And you didn't help her._ Merlin paled as he stopped his gait, an interesting mixture of sorrow and fear evident on his face. If Morgana couldn't forgive him, could he blame her? If he were in her position, and she was the one who had chosen to poison him, could he be as forgiving? The answer was quick and unhesitant: he would, Merlin thought, a little surprised at his own self-sacrificing attitude he had developed the past years he served Prince Arthur. Or maybe he always had this in his personality.

He sighed, a hand reaching out to wipe his face. He may be this way, but that didn't mean Morgana had to be the same. Hell, he doubted any of his friends would be forgiving if he poisoned any one of them without informing them. That act, done with whatever good intentions, was a betrayal of friendship from his part. And the thought of what would have happened if trusted Morgana more than the oversized lizard in the below the kingdom, what would have happened if he told the witch about their situation…

… would she choose Camelot over her own life? The Morgana he knew would. The Morgana they brought back… she might be the consequence of his decisions. He knew he was to blame for her destruction as much as Uther, if not more.

Gaius walked into his quarters, opening the rickety door, and alerting his ward of his presence. The physician stopped at the entrance, gazing at the back of his ward. "Merlin," he called to the young man. Merlin turned around, a small fear prevalent in his brilliant blue eyes.

"Did you talk to her?" His voice was soft, the simple question betraying hours of contemplation.

"She's sleeping," Gaius responded, sighing as he walked over to his ward.

Merlin didn't seem satisfied with the answer. "Did she say anything about me?"

"Nothing as yet," the physician replied, a questioning glance. _What aren't you telling me, Merlin?_

"Well, she's going to." The warlock sighed, settling onto the stool in front of the work bench. He found himself looking contemplatively at potion bottle in front of him, eerily reminding him of the day he took hemlock from this room.

Gaius moved forwards nervously, a sudden (and rather scary) thought crossing his mind as he looked at his despondent ward. "Does she know your secret, Merlin?" Gaius asked hurriedly before clarifying. "Does she know you have magic?"

"No, she doesn't. No one does," Merlin assured his uncle. The effect was instantaneous, as the old physician relaxed.

"Good. Because if Uther finds out…" It wasn't the first time that Gaius found himself wondering what he would do if his ward was discovered. By God, he would fight with every old bone in his body, and make sure that the young man he adored as his son escaped this kingdom. He would fight if it were the last thing he did. Yet, despite all his backup plans, the brief image of his ward tied to a wooden stake, the pyre being lit with the crimson flames, and the screams of pure pain that filled the smoky air – it haunted Gaius's nights since Merlin stepped into his life and his heart.

But with that degree of loyalty his ward possessed, Gaius feared that his nightmare might come true. Even now, the physician observed, the servant was beating himself up over a decision that he made the prior year.

"She knows I tried to poison her, she knows that," Merlin whispered forlornly, breaking Gaius from his thoughts. He gazed into those weary eyes that sought console. _I tried to kill her, Gaius._

"You had no choice," the physician stated strongly, placing his battered old hand on the bony shoulder. "Camelot was dying. Morgana was the source of the enchantment. Either you poisoned her, or the kingdom fell." This was no new conversation, but Gaius still held the same conviction in his voice.

"But Uther won't know that. All she'll say is I tried to kill her," Merlin pointed out. And again, he found himself wondering if he would be wholly underserving of any punishment Uther would dish out if Morgana spoke.

"We can't be sure, Merlin." Gaius replied, sensing that Merlin was giving up the fight before anything was determined. The physician shook his head, slowly making his way to the side of his workbench, intending to clean up the mess spread out on the surface before retiring for the night.

"What do you think Uther will do to me?" Merlin's asked softly, his voice barely heard despite the silence in the chambers. The fear was obvious in his voice. And yet, Gaius could hear resignation as well.

The physician picked up certain empty vials, moving them to the cabinet underneath the bench. "Let's just wait and see what tomorrow brings." The old eyes met the blue, and Gaius attempted to will his ward out of despair. It was a simple solution, not the most effective, but the best they can do given their circumstance. Merlin nodded, clumsily standing before making his way to his room in the back. Gaius watched concerned, but didn't say anything, even as his ward softly shut the door behind himself.

Merlin collapsed onto his bed not bothering to change out of his clothes, the exhaustion finally catching up to him. He closed his blue eyes, intending to catch up on his sleep. It might even be the last time he could sleep so peacefully, the young man mused. He covered his eyes with the crook of his elbow, allowing the dream realm to claim him as the warmth of his magic hummed underneath his skin.

And no matter what dreams he held, no matter what nightmares haunt him, that same warmth kept the worst at bay. It was as if it reminded him that he was the most powerful man to ever walk this earth. Yet, it wasn't intimidating because his magic reminded him his purpose: to protect Arthur.

It didn't matter if Merlin had to humble himself as a lowly underappreciated servant. It didn't matter if Merlin had to overwork himself to complete his tasks as Arthur's servant, Gaius's apprentice, and the secret protector of the entire Kingdom. It didn't matter that Merlin had to make difficult decisions and will have to make even more to the point where he has to betray his closest friends. It didn't matter if he had to lay down his own life or the lives of many others.

If Arthur lived and Camelot stood, Merlin would repeat the same mistakes a hundred times over. And his Magic reminded him of this vow. His magic comforted him.

It was hours later, that the sleeping warlock felt his power spike, like dipping down in an unhindered fear. Merlin jolted awake, bolting from his bed and stumbling over the random objects placed around his small room.

The only time this happened was when Arthur was in danger.

But this was worse, Merlin realized as he gasped for air, pulling himself to his feet. He made his way to the nearest window, opening the shutters to peer at the slumbering lower town. His eyes made their way straight to the anomaly at the center of his vision, a distance away from his towers. And a black cloaked figure met his gaze, golden eyes burning.

 _Merlin Emrys_ , an amalgam of voices resonated in Merlin's head, and he instinctively covered his ears to block the noise. _You will pay for your crimes._ And before Merlin could respond, the figure vanished, disappearing into thin air, just as the first rays fell onto the Lower Town.

 **A/N: I wanted to go a little further than where I had stopped. And introducing the main villain of the story so many times seemed redundant, but I need all the characters on board with what's different.**

 **There are subtle differences from the original episode, part of it is intentional, and part of it is due to me not finding access to re-watch this episode. This will only affect the first 2-3 chapters. Afterwards, the story will follow my ideas (which I'm excited to share with you about)!**

 **The whole Gwaine scenes were a riot to write! I really enjoyed writing them, but I am nervous to share those scenes (frankly, the first time I wrote in such a suggestive manner). If it is offensive to anyone, I do apologize for that.**

 **Thank you for reading! Please leave a review/comment.**


	3. Chapter 2: The New Alliance

Chapter 2: A New Alliance

 _I intend to kill Prince Arthur's manservant. Merlin._

 _ **Merlin Emrys**_ _, an amalgam of voices resonated in Merlin's head, and he instinctively covered his ears to block the noise._ _ **You will pay for your crimes**_ _. And before Merlin could respond, the figure vanished, disappearing into thin air, just as the first rays fell onto the Lower Town._

* * *

Merlin couldn't fall asleep, opting instead to sit on the floor next to his bed. He massaged his left shoulder, close to his heart, as if trying to calm down his magic. The same unsettled feeling lingered at the pit of his stomach, like premonition.

Who was that person?

And his magic spiked at the mere thought of those golden eyes that pierced into his soul. He supposed he could ask the oversized lizard under the castle. A knock on the door startled Merlin out of his thoughts, and he turned to see his mentor walk into his chambers.

Gaius looked down at his ward, a solemn gaze that reminded him of his current predicament with Morgana. "Arthur requests your presence."

It was all that needed to be said, and Merlin quickly rose to his feet, giving a curt nod to the court physician before walking to Arthur's chambers.

Interestingly, the closer Merlin got to the prince's chambers, the more he found his mind going blank. All the thoughts that persistently haunted him the prior night seemed to vanish. Having finally reached the chambers, Merlin wondered if he should uncharacteristically knock on the door, or just barge in as normal. He sighed softly before pushing open the doors and turned to find his master.

Arthur was standing next to his window, already dressed and lost in thoughts, oddly reminiscent of what Merlin had been going through just minutes before. The prince didn't turn back, even as he heard his servant walk in, waiting obediently for his master to address him.

"Merlin," Arthur finally acknowledged. He turned around smiling softly, but his eyes held an unrestricted joy. The past year there was this lingering sorrow in the corner of those cerulean eyes, yet today, Merlin noticed that those eyes were clear.

The prince walked towards the door, "Let's go, Merlin." He commanded, just as he normally would, and started to walk out, listening to his servant run to catch up to him.

And perhaps watching Arthur walk out finally snapped the manservant out of his daze. "Arthur, wait!"

Arthur turned around in the middle of the hall. "What is it?"

Merlin shuffled, switching his body weight from one foot to another, a nervous habit that Arthur learned to notice. The prince frowned as the younger boy failed to form a proper sentence. "Ehm… I was wondering… you know, Morgana… It's great to have her back…"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Spit it out, Merlin."

"IsitnecessaryformetobethereinMorgana'schamberswithyou?" Merlin blurted out, a single line. Arthur pulled back, confused, but getting the general gist of what Merlin was trying to say. He turned around, walking towards Morgana's chambers, knowing that Merlin was following.

"What do you mean, of course you're going to come." At Merlin's still hesitant glance, Arthur stopped again, placing his hand on the young man's shoulder, stilling the nervous man. The prince sighed. "I know, Merlin."

The warlock felt his blood run cold, and he looked into Arthur's eyes. He knew?

Arthur let Merlin go. "You're blaming yourself because you couldn't stop Morgause and her cronies from taking Morgana. Trust me, I've been feeling similarly," Arthur started. "But with you it must be more different." He stared intently. "I know you hold – _feelings_ – for Morgana."

Merlin spluttered. "Wait, what?" Arthur smiled, knowingly.

"I'm not as oblivious as you seem to think. Don't you think I know the reason why you insisted on joining every quest for Morgana this past year?" And if one didn't know any better, they would think the Prince was proud.

"But I go with you on every quest and hunting trip," Merlin started, almost indignantly. If Morgana heard this, she would probably kill the servant and his prince in the most painful way possible.

"Your secret is safe with me," Arthur waved the servant off, amused.

Merlin pouted, not knowing how to convince the prince out of his delusional world. "You said the same thing about me and Guinevere."

"I was wrong then." Arthur looked up thoughtfully. "Unless I wasn't?" And how could a single question be phrased to sound so threatening?

"You were wrong," Merlin assured quickly. "The point isn't that though. I don't think I should be there."

"On the contrary, I think you should. And my thoughts value more than yours ever could." Arthur smirked. At Merlin's unconvinced facial expression, the prince sighed. "You, me and Guinevere are Morgana's closest friends. I think the best way to make her feel safe and welcomed is by starting with us. Not even Father can offer her comfort the way we can."

Merlin gulped, letting his eyes fall. Although he disagreed (he doubted he could offer much comfort to the King's ward), he nodded silently.

And the prince and the servant walked silently for a couple of minutes, Merlin lost in thought again.

"Alright, what bothering you?" Arthur finally asked, after observing his manservant gnaw at his bottom lip for nearly a minute.

"Nothing." The answer was immediate, mostly out of habit than anything else.

" _Merlin,_ don't make me ask twice," Arthur threatened. "What's bothering – "

"I think there's a sorcerer in Camelot," Merlin blurted out, mostly to change the topic, but partially to address what his magic was screaming to be a danger.

"Sorcerer?" Arthur stopped in his tracks again. "Do you have evidence?"

"No…" Merlin trailed off. "But I saw him. Or her. Last night through my window. They stood at the center of Lower Town wearing a black cloak."

"Are they after Morgana?" Arthur asked nervously.

"I don't know," Merlin admitted, opting not mention that it was him that the person telepathically targeted. It was rare to have someone openly target him: very few knew him as the secret protector of Camelot. But Merlin figured it would be safe to still inform his master, in case it wasn't just him who was on the hit list.

"Are you sure about this?" Arthur asked, as he started walking again. "Or is this like the time you said Gaius was a Goblin?" Merlin lifted his finger, his mouth opening to contradict, but Arthur didn't care, continuing to list off the names. "Or my step mother was a troll? Or the Princess Elaine was possessed by a blue-faced fairy."

"In my defense, as outrageous as those accusations are, they were true." Merlin interrupted, just in case Arthur went further back on his list.

Arthur's eyebrows rose. "Fine, Merlin. I'll inform my father and have the guards be on double-duty. Happy?"

Merlin tilted his head, the beginnings of his infamous impish grin forming. "Very, sire."

"Good, now can we get back to speaking with Morgana?" The duo finally made it to Morgana's chambers. Arthur placed a hand on the door, his voice a little more hushed.

"Well…"

"It's a rhetorical question, _Mer_ lin."

Merlin shrugged in response, smiling softly despite the anxiety he felt. Arthur opened the door, walking into the chambers to a very awake Morgana sitting on the bed, enveloped in the golden pillows. Arthur walked over, sitting at the foot of the bed, and resting a hand on the blanket. Morgana looked at the prince.

The young warlock followed to the entrance and stopped as soon as his eyes fell on the battered woman in front of him.

Because that's exactly how he saw Morgana. A battered, frightened woman. Her black curls rested on her shoulders and around her now prominent jawline. She was talking to Arthur, answering his questions, in a low tone. Her green eyes darted around the room, everywhere but at the door. And if she saw Merlin, she didn't acknowledge him at all.

Arthur stood up, leaning in to give the woman a hug, and she returned it, a gentle smile on her face. The prince turned around walking up to Merlin and squeezed his shoulder, no doubt thinking that his servant would now talk with the King's ward. And he let go, walking out of the chambers to leave the two secret magic users alone in the room.

And the warlock did want to talk to her. He wanted to go explain himself, what situations led him to poison one of the strongest woman in his life after his mother. He wanted to beg for her forgiveness. Yet as soon as his blue eyes met the emerald, he felt the fight leave him. Anything he wanted to say seemed insignificant to the raw betrayal, sadness and anger clearly visible in those eyes.

Merlin turned to leave, run away like a coward –

"Merlin. I want to speak to you." Merlin stilled as the cracked voice addressed him. "I know what you did. You tried to poison me." And the warlock felt himself burn, the shame of his act finally hitting him full force.

"I didn't want to," Merlin stated softly. Tears started to blur his vision, but he pushed it back. He owed her an explanation.

"It's alright, Merlin," Morgana said, her eyes softening a little bit. "I understand. You were just trying to protect your friend, I would have done the same."

"Really?" Merlin asked, finding himself readily accepting her forgiveness. He strived for it for the past year, to hear those very words.

"I was so naïve, Merlin," Morgana's voice cracked again, pain fresh in her voice. "I don't think I really understood what I was doing. But believe me, I have seen the evils in this world. I have seen firsthand what it is that Uther fights against. You don't know how much I regret everything I've done. I just… hope that you can forgive me."

Merlin felt a part of him break. What had she been through? "I am so sorry for everything you've been through," he replied softly. He smiled gently, attempting to reassure her. "It's good to have you back."

Morgana returned the smile. And the servant felt lighter, more relaxed. _Morgana is strong,_ the small part of his voice whispered at the back of his head. Merlin nodded before leaving the room.

And nobody saw the servant wipe the tears that managed to escape from his eyes when he left the chambers. At that moment, perhaps there was no one happier in all of Camelot to have Morgana back and safe than Merlin.

 **[** **Merlin Merlin Merlin** **]**

Night fell quickly over the Kingdom of Camelot. A rather happy (and drenched) servant made his way to the Court Physician's chambers, his mood not at all dampened by his Master "teaching" him how to use the washcloth and bucket by wipe his face. If one searched for the Prince of Camelot, he would be found with a certain maid servant, lodged between the narrowest servant hallway, cuddled with each other and whispering their love. Even the Royal King was found in a brilliant mood, having spoken with his ward mere hours prior, and finding her not only safe but finally understanding his crusade against magic.

The castle itself was at the happiest moment in the past year. The servants had retired for the night, part of their thoughts focused on upcoming feast celebrating the return of Morgana Pendragon. So, could anyone blame the normally incompetent guards for not keeping a vigilante eye? Or could anyone notice a cloaked figure exit the kingdom, making their way to the bloodguard cave at the edge of the forest.

Morgause stood at the end, standing over a large boiling cauldron. "My sister," she called out without turning. The cloaked figure pulled down her hood, revealing herself to indeed be Morgana. "How have you fared?"

The witch in question smirked. "Camelot has welcomed back its daughter with open arms."

"Uther does not suspect?" The highest priestess asked.

"He laps up my lies like the sniveling dog that he is," Morgana replied, enjoying the smile that she received in return. If truth be told, the sisters knew how to infiltrate the Kingdom, soon after they heard of Uther's relentless searches for his ward. What Morgause hadn't counted on was how long it to cure Morgana from the poison.

The priestess was shocked to have found her sister lying in the arms of a lowly servant that dared to poison her kin. And to protect Camelot's royalty, no less. Talking of the servant…

"And the boy?" Morgana's face fell at that question. The servant boy had entered her room early this morning with the prince to apologize for his actions. He was the one who sneaked poison into the water skin, handing it to her under the guise of friendship. He was the one who thwarted their plans to remove Uther from the throne, her ascension to the throne. A mere servant whose loyalty gave him the strength to accomplish what the entire Kingdom couldn't.

And Morgana found herself much in awe at that. She had always looked at how Merlin stood up, against Arthur even, for what was right. She thought he was with her, especially when he tried to help her with her magic initially. Little did she know how far Uther's lies spread, how much prejudice must have developed in one of the kindest hearts she had the pleasure of meeting. And if Uther had that much influence…

Then never mind hacking at the branches to fell a large tree. Better to axe it in its roots.

"Merlin?" Morgana assumed, gazing away. Her anger still got the better of her, betrayed in her voice. "He believes I've changed. And he's right. Soon he will see exactly how much." She may not directly attack Merlin, but if he interfered again, she wouldn't be as lenient.

Morgana pulled out a handkerchief, handing it to Morgause. "You've done well," her sister congratulated, examining the kerchief to find tear stains. A malicious grin encompassed her face. "The tears of Uther Pendragon have only begun to fall."

Morgause dropped the handkerchief with Uther's tears into a giant cauldron filled with boiling murk the stench of which finally enveloping the cave. Not bothered, the witch continued, dropping a large root next. Morgana leaned forward, eager to see what new scheme Morgause was literally concocting. A piercing scream fills the air, the root floating to the surface as its skin stretched in a manner neither of the witches had imagined. Morgana flinched involuntarily.

"The mandrake root is very special," the high priestess explained. "Only those with magic can hear its cries. But for those without magic, the magic pierces the very recesses of the soul, twisting the unconscious into the very image of fear and dread. Uther Pendragon will find that his great kingdom counts for nothing, when he has lost his mind."

And she slipped into the ancient tongue, using her dark magic to bring upon what she believed to be righteous vengeance. " _Mid þæm wundorcræft þæs ealdan æwþ ic þe hate nime Utheres wopdropan ond þa gemengan mid his blod. Sy he under wittig ond deofol seocnes his heorte afylþ."_

Her eyes flashed gold and she pulled out the muddy root, handing it to Morgana. "Place this under Uther's bed. We will have to replace the enchantment daily, so meet me at the edge of the Kingdom past the darkest hour before dawn."

Morgana nodded obediently. "Then I best be gone, Sister."

"Our dream where magic once again reigns this land is not far, dear sister," Morgause promised. The witches smiled, before Morgana turned to leave, walking the distance out of the cave, as she covered the root into the depths of her cloak.

Morgana walked through the forest, her thoughts already floating in her upcoming triumph. When her sister brings in Cenred's army to a weakened Camelot, when the first blade strikes the insane King, shedding his blood onto the brick floor of the courtyard that held countless innocent magicians' deaths, she will be the first to rejoice. Rejoice the fall of a tyrant and the new age of magic and prosperity.

And through her thoughts, she failed to notice the gentle rustle of someone following her.

"Morgana Pendragon," a deep voice called. Morgana twirled around, her cloak swirling behind her, to face another cloaked figure. His face wasn't visible, hidden deep within the hood, but his darkened eyes peeked out, unrecognizable in the night.

Morgana stretched her hand in front of her, defensively. "Who are you?"

The hood tilted, almost curiously. And the man spoke again, a hint of mirth hidden in his voice. "If you listen to what I have to say, then I would be…" the Black Sorcerer drawled. "… a very strong ally."

 **A/N: I rushed through writing this chapter, so I may have to come back and update this with edits. I believe I covered most of the "already know" material, so all of the new stuff will start piling in form next chapter on! I'm probably still going to introduce more characters, but the story should go full-fledged with a certain witch discovering a certain warlock's magic (as the summary promised) next chapter.**

 **I wanted to do the whole bucket scene with Arthur, since I really enjoyed that scene, but I opted to just do a conversation before meeting Morgana instead. It was a little long and drawn out, but I enjoyed writing Oblivious!Arthur. That's a whole different level of fun as well.**

 **Stay tuned for the next chapter! I'm hoping to follow a weekly update schedule (every Sunday) from here on out. Honestly depends on how the chapter goes. Please Review/Comment on what your thoughts are!**

 **Disclaimer: I forgot to include this in the first two chapters, but I don't own Merlin. If I forget again in the future, I'm hoping this disclaimer will count for something**


	4. Chapter 3: An Uncomfortable Situation

Chapter 3: An Uncomfortable Situation

 _Morgana stretched her hand in front of her, defensively. "Who are you?"_

 _The hood tilted, almost curiously. And the man spoke again, a hint of mirth hidden in his voice. "If you listen to what I have to say, then I would be…" the Black Sorcerer drawled. "… a very strong ally."_

* * *

Morgana felt her arm drop, as she looked at the man in front of her. "Are you a sorcerer?"

The whispers ancient tongue poured out of the hood, and Morgana lifted her arm again instinctively. " _Revel thyself, magic as dark as night_." His eyes flashed golden, confirming her suspicions.

"Mandrake root!" the sorcerer laughed, an airy feature to his deep voice. "No doubt for the already insane King?" Morgana didn't reply. "I suppose your sister will head to Cenred soon? After all, a weakened Camelot should be easy to take."

Morgana narrowed her eyes, glaring at the man in front of her suspiciously. "How do you know this?"

"Never mind what I know," the sorcerer waved her off. "You and your sister have this grand scheme planned, but have you stopped to consider if anyone would get in the way? Like they had plenty of times before?"

Morgana smirked. "Who can stop an immortal army?" She clamped her mouth shut, instantly realizing that she had given too much information away.

The sorcerer didn't seem to notice. "I suppose the last immortal army that attacked Camelot was very successful." Morgana opened her mouth, ready to contradict him, but he continued. "No, a certain manservant of Prince Arthur stopped you, hadn't he?" The sorcerer moved closer, just as Morgana felt herself freeze in shock. "He poisoned you," The whisper was barely audible, but Morgana looked up, gazing into the discolored eyes. She noticed they were bizarre mixture of amber, blue, and green.

"How do you know all of this?" Morgana found herself whispering.

"I've told you, milady," the sorcerer replied, as he stepped back. "If you listen to what I say, rather than blindly follow Morgause, _I_ will be your strongest ally."

The witch studied him intently, hoping to decipher any hints on the identity of this man in front of her. "Yes, Merlin tried to poison me." Morgana finally admitted.

"And you forgive him for it? You seek no revenge?" Unlike his previous questions, there was a genuine confusion voiced in these questions.

"I am angry," Morgana confessed, watching the man before her warily and wondering if she should disclose any more information. If he did prove to be a power ally though, it might be a good idea to tell him more. Besides, this was a simple and useless matter. "But Merlin has more to do with the prejudices Uther instilled into an innocent crowd." Morgana shrugged. "He was simply a product of that. He doesn't really understand how magic works." _Wasting my anger on a servant is useless,_ she repeated to herself like a mantra, controlling the rage every time she thought of that manservant.

The sorcerer laughed at that, "You believe Merlin doesn't understand how magic works?" Morgana found herself confused again. "I would be more forgiving of Uther Pendragon than I am of Merlin Emrys, dear Witch."

"At least with the despot King, we know what to expect." The hooded figure looked down at the floor, his hood covering his eyes. "But when the very man whose sacred duty is to protect magic-users, when the most power warlock to ever walk this Earth stands idly and watches the persecution of countless innocents…" He lifted his head, revealing pure rage burning in his eyes. "I can never forgive him for his mistakes, for his hesitance, for his incompetence."

"What?" Morgana asked, a part of her mind following the conversation, but the rest thoroughly confused at where this man was getting.

"Merlin Emrys is magic, Morgana Pendragon." The revelation hit her like a block of ice, and the King's ward staggered backwards.

All the times she went to him, scared about her magic, all the times she begged him for help, he just stood there. He didn't help her, opting to save his own skin instead. She was angry at him before, but now, disgust joined the bag of mixed emotions.

"I don't care about Uther Pendragon," the cloaked man continued. "He is a simple fool with power. Defeating him is like batting insects over a pond. But Emrys is a formidable threat. As long as he lives, magic can never return to Camelot." There was a hint of sadness reflecting in his voice as he observed the shocked woman in front of him. He watched as her eyes hardened, an insurmountable (and if he were the judge, rightful) anger burning deep within the emerald.

"And what about Arthur?" Morgana finally asked, although her mind was already floating around how she would kill the traitorous servant.

"Arthur's an oblivious dog. He is barely of concern, at least in my plans." The sorcerer stated nonchalantly. "I want the life of Merlin Emrys. You want the man who keeps hindering your plans dead. We both have a common goal."

Morgana nodded, her instinct demanding immediate vengeance against the servant she had always thought was merely mislead. The smaller part of her insisted on sticking to Morgause's plans, to overthrow Uther and worry about the secret guardian later.

A curious thought struck her. What had Merlin done to this man to irk him? "Why do you want him dead?"

And the eyes changed, devoid of any emotions. "I have my reasons, you have yours."

Morgana smiled. "Regardless, removing Merlin from the picture is easy. I merely have to accuse him of sorcery –"

"If you think the might Emrys could fall with mere flames on a pyre, you would be sorely mistaken, Lady Morgana." The cloaked man moved again, walking to close the gap between them. Morgana felt herself move back, very much intimidated by those burning eyes surveying her like that of a predator eyeing a prey. He slowly reached into his cloak, pulling out a glinting blade. "Only this blade, forged in dragon's breath and coated in questing beast's blood, can kill him." He pulled her arm up, pushing the crystal hilt into her hand.

Morgana lifted the blade eyeing it, as the second hand traced the hilt, reaching up to the flat of the blade and then towards the blade itself. Something was alluring about the blade, a sort of a wrong aura radiating from the shiny surface. She wanted to press her finger slightly, just to test the sharpness of the blade –

"I would advise against that," the sorcerer interrupted. "A single scratch will give you the most painful death imagined."

Her hand pulled away sharply, and she eyed the man as he moved in front of her once again to sheath the weapon. The hood tilted once more, and something told her that the man was smirking under the hood. He lifted his right hand to reveal the mandrake root. "I believe you have little use for this now?"

The witch searched her cloak pocket, surprised to see that she was indeed missing the root. "Don't worry," the cloak informed her. "I will speak with Morgause about this. You only need to take care of Emrys." He turned around, ready to disappear into the darkness.

"Why me?" Morgana whispered, as she placed the dagger into her the same pocket that initially held the root. "Why do you need my help when you can kill Merlin yourself?"

The sorcerer didn't turn back. "I thought you would be happy to get your revenge. All you have to do is stab that dagger into the same heart that shattered yours to pieces."

[ **Merlin Merlin Merlin** ]

Sir Leon of Camelot rested against the tree bark and watched his knights set up camp. It had been a full day since their unusual encounter with a certain Sorcerer, and Leon had no doubts that the threat moved far more quickly than any of his men; they were at least several hours away from the Kingdom, if not a full day. Gwaine and Lancelot had both insisted on coming to Camelot. Leon refused, citing the laws of Camelot, even though he knew Gwaine would pay little attention and Lancelot was far too anxious about Merlin's life.

The senior night looked up into sky, obscured by the leaves of the forest trees. He knew the banished duo would sneak into the Kingdom. And honestly, he preferred them in the Kingdom, regardless of his orders. After all, he knew what these men were capable of.

Leon had seen several noble knights before and during his service to the Kingdom. There were the pompous ones, who believed that they existed at the top of the hierarchy and forgot their responsibilities. There were the obedient ones, those who followed rules and stood as perfect models. There were even selfish ones, who simply believed knighthood symbolized power, and neglected the responsibilities that came with the job.

Lancelot and Gwaine didn't fall into any of those categories. They were special, a rare breed that only wanted to protect. They didn't care for titles as much as they did lives of everyone. And their loyalty was only outmatched by Prince Arthur's manservant.

And it was Merlin's life that was directly threatened.

Leon sighed as he gazed into the burning flames. Merlin must have done something to this man while he protected his master; the knight couldn't imagine such a sweet soul picking a fight with anyone over any matter that didn't involve his prince. He also knew Uther wouldn't worry over the life of a servant. But Merlin was like a younger brother to him as well.

Besides, it wasn't just Merlin's life that was in danger. Lady Morgana was too. From the looks of it, the Black Sorcerer went out of his way to find out more about Morgana's whereabouts. And it was mere hours ago that Leon had received a message from the falconry: Morgana was back in Camelot. Surely, she would be safe in the protective towers of the majestic citadel. Yet one could never be too sure.

Leon tilted his head, looking inconspicuously to his left side. Just far enough from his sight, a small fire flickered, its dim golden light barely visible beyond the trees. The two idiots were following him, enlisting the help of a large village man in the process. Leon just shook his head, smiling a little to himself, before turning to his knights and barking out brief orders.

"His voice carries too far," Gwaine complained, swinging his water skin and taking a large gulp. And for some reason, Lancelot doubted that there was only water in the sack.

"How much do you drink?" Percival asked curiously. The rouge man drank well over five tankards in the tavern, and managed to sneak some out from the rundown bar.

"Enough to think," Gwaine responded seriously, sobering their light chat instantly. Lancelot simply nodded, looking further away.

Percival had volunteered to join his friend and the drunkard as soon as he heard Lancelot argue vehemently against Camelot's Knight for saving a friend. After all, he had heard a lot about Merlin from Lancelot, and always wanted the pleasure to make acquaintance the man. It was unfortunate they had to meet in these conditions.

The gentle knight gazed at both of his new friends, each lost in their thoughts but the pain and worry etched clearly across their face. "We will save him." Percival said strongly, a small effort to assure them. Both snapped out of their thoughts, smiling softly at the gentle man.

"Yes, we will," Gwaine replied, conviction in his eyes.

[ **Merlin Merlin Merin** ]

The moonless night is stealth incarnate. It blankets the day secretively, conquering the brightness in guerrilla fashioned war style. It is unexpected, like that of poison's steel grip on its suffocating victim. Night is dark, and even the most heinous of crimes can take place without your knowledge. Or consent.

The darkest thoughts dance at the surface of your mind, relentlessly haunting, dictating your every move. You feel the irresistible lust, a desperate desire. The viscous blood that pours freely from your tortured wounds has more value than the sun touched gold ever could. And when day finally arrives, you would wonder what had led you to behave in such an animalistic, desperate manner the prior night. But, believe me, my friend. You can search every corner of this spherical world, you will never find the answer.

Morgana had met a man in one such night. A man who, quite literally was stuck in the darkest corner of his shadowing hood, his heart grieving with the loss of his loved ones. Little did he know, his vengeance had led him to become like the very man he despised. Or perhaps, he knew that the very man he despised would become him. Oh, the beauty of self-fulfilling prophecies.

They tyrant of Camelot slept no better this night either. Uther Pendragon shifted restlessly in his spacious bed, built from the corpses of those he blindly betrayed. The King cowered, pressing deeply into the rock-hard mattress, hiding from the horde of golden eyes of the friends he killed in cold blood. He screamed noiselessly, his eyes closed, his voice gone. Night Terrors. It seems the despot King didn't need any mandrake roots to drive him to the edge of rationality. He would wake the next morning, no knowledge of his deepest fears, nor his nightly abuses. After all, only a fool would repeatedly commit the same sin that earned him his punishment.

Morgana was no better, her heart shattered by the drastic and rash decisions that she had no qualms about making. How could she accept that it was her actions that had turned the gentlest soul against her? How could she accept that it was her mistakes, and her mistakes alone, that will create her into the very monster she feared? Instead, she blamed the world around her, lying to keep herself sane. Heed my advice, dear friend: lie to anyone, your family, friends, even God, but never lie to yourself. A single lie can branch into something more, like that of an overgrown weed that takes over whatever little sanity left in your head.

Both magic users felt fate drive them in the direction they had never imagined they would trespass. And violence became their method, their chosen weapon.

But with what sword can you bring peace? With what war can you create heaven upon this Earth?

The villains of Camelot took in ragged tortured breathes, for even they could feel the bony fingers of Death closing in upon them, the chill of the night settling into their hearts like frost bite. But still they fight, one would say quite valiantly if it weren't for their foolish cause. They fight because, like you and me, when they inevitably die, they want to leave _with no regrets_.

They say that the darkest hour was just before the dawn. And it is the darkest hour of the same night that Morgana met the Black Sorcerer that we enter back into our story.

Morgana snuck back into her Kingdom, cloaked and hidden from view. The double duty guards (for Morgana's protection, Arthur insisted), were no better. Morgana noticed that the first layer of security was easily distractible as the guards ran after the shiniest trinkets like five-year-old children. The second layer of security had far too much confidence in the first layer of security and thought it would be fine to sleep on their job.

And the witch didn't even have to try to get past any guards when she walked into the unprotected chambers of the Court Physician. The door opened silently as the King's ward peeked in.

The soft snores of the older man filled the air, a steady rise and fall of his chest in rhythm. The dimming light from the fire place lit the room enough to provide a small path towards the back chambers, interwoven between the numerous tables covered in various potions and herbs.

Morgana tip toed in, silently closing the door behind her. She crept in, her feet tapping lightly against the old wooden floors in a such a delicate manner that not a single creak escaped. She smiled lightly as she made her way back, bouncing up the two steps to reach the back-door chambers: the room where she knew Merlin would reside.

The plan was simple and beautiful, just elaborate enough for any good thief on a brilliant heist to approve.

Step 1: Infiltrate the Court Physician Gaius's chambers. Make it silent, to not gather the attention of any potential guards or Gaius. Check.

And frankly, the only reason for the silent entrance (rather than the wreaking rage and a tantrum that may potentially break down the sturdy walls of the castle) was purely due to survival instinct. Morgana couldn't guarantee her own safety should Uther suspect her of sorcery.

Step 2: Sneak into Merlin's chambers. Check.

Morgana stared at the small chamber, stunned at the mess the sleeping warlock had created in such confined spaces. She rolled her eyes involuntarily. _Boys_. She had been in Arthur's chambers in those rare moments when the prince refused to keep his manservant in the earlier days of his snobbish prince days. And to say a storm had wreaked the room would be an understatement.

She lifted her skirt, barely above her ankles to prevent the dress from swishing around the dirty floor. And then she moved gracefully across the floor, keeping the silent movement as she twirled around the various objects. Arthur's armor. Stacks of books. Clothes covered in rotten vegetables. Small bowls of half crushed herbs. And was that a leech crawling away from one of the bowls?

Morgana fought the gag reflex, forcing herself to remember the object of her mission. She finally made her way to the cot, avoiding bumping into the wobbling side table that held a single lit candle.

And Merlin was sleeping peacefully, his left arm and leg hanging outside of the cot awkwardly, as his thin chest rose and fell at a constant pace. He was still in his blue shirt and trousers, but at least neckerchief was removed, placed onto the edge of the side table. His raven hair was moist, plastered onto his forehead. The twitches of a smile were etched onto his illuminated face. The light from the candle highlighted his features, making the cheekbones seem far more defined than they normally were. And did he always have such long eyelashes? Perhaps it was a trick of light, but his lips seemed flushed. So red and soft…

Morgana shook her head. Focus.

Step 3. Morgana pulled out the dagger, gripping the hilt with both of her hands as she positioned the blade a foot above the heart of the slumbering warlock. And what tempted her more than scarlet-tinted lips was the thought of the crimson blood that would flow from the man who dared to betray her. Morgana smirked, a malicious glint in her eyes.

She rose the blade, ready to plunge it into that thinly covered chest…

And Merlin's eyes flashed open, as he rolled out of the bed, toppling Morgana in the process. The witch grunted in response as she collapsed onto the floor her head colliding with the armor in the back. She struggled to her feet, one hand still holding the blade, while the other tried to push her tangled hair out of her line of vision.

Near the bed side, Merlin struggled to his feet as well, panting as he heaved himself up with the help from his cot. He stood in front of her, not yet having seen her face, but bent in a defensive manner with his arm outstretched in front of him. He had been sleeping peacefully, the best he's ever had in the past year, but his magic screamed suddenly at him, the internal alarm waking him in an instant. Frankly, Merlin thought the cloaked figure might be the sorcerer from the previous night.

Finally, Morgana pulled away her cloak, cleaning up her hair in the process and revealing herself. "Morgana?" Merlin whispered, straightening himself up as his hand automatically went down. The witch didn't waste any time as she launched herself at the raven-haired man, the knife held high above her head. Merlin stepped back, toppling onto his cot, but not before the deadly blade slashed across his chest from his heart to his right hip, leaving a gaping hole in his favorite shirt.

Merlin hissed in pain as he rolled the other direction on the cot, lodging himself in the thin space between his bed and the wall. "What are you doing?" Merlin gasped, as he pushed the bed against the assaulting woman, attempting to keep her at bay.

"What does it look like?" She wheezed, throwing herself onto the cot. Merlin rolled underneath, evading the next stab and working his way to stand behind her. There was a flash of gold, instinctual magic, and Morgana was tossed face down onto the bed. Her dress caught onto the sharp edges, ripping the skirt at the bottom.

The young warlock pulled a broomstick from behind the rickety wardrobe, holding it like a sword and pointing the tip of the handle at Morgana. "Why?" He demanded, a desperateness etched into his voice. She said she forgave him, didn't she?

She turned to face him, through the tangled locks of her hair. Her eyes gleamed with hatred and the words she whispered next froze the confused warlock. "Because you have Magic, Merlin."

Merlin's mind went blank, as if someone had opened his window and let an unseasonal winter cold air into his small chambers. And Morgana didn't lose this opportunity either, successfully pushing the man against the wardrobe, and somehow stabbing his right hand straight through so that the blade stuck into the wooden surface.

He screamed in pain, before Morgana's hand came up, shutting his mouth and roughly pushing his head against the wardrobe door. She watched him shut his eyes tightly, the corners of his eyes tearing up, a sadistic pleasure blossoming in her heart. "We can't have you screaming and waking Gaius up," she said mockingly.

A part of her wanted to step back, to watch the warlock squirm in pain at the blade pushed through his hand, as the shallow cut on his chest bled. She wanted to see the man that tricked her into drinking poison and held her as she choked to death. She wanted to see the man who stood and watched her suffer, who let her think she went crazy when those nightmares haunted her instead of helping her. A sheen of sweat formed on his throat, the lump on his neck bobbing painfully.

She smiled sweetly. "Next," She whispered, leaning in so that her mouth lined with his ear. "It will be your heart." She grasped the hilt again intending to pull it out and plunge it back into the soft body.

The servant felt something jolt through him, a survival instinct, and his magic pushed the witch, chucking her like a ragdoll against the opposite wall. His eyes flashed gold again, removing the blade from his hand and tossing the abominable weapon as far from reach as possible.

And then he charged at her, pushing her down onto his cot with so much force that bed snapped. Morgana moaned underneath him, one hand pinned down by his arm, while the other desperately grasped at his bloody shirt, an effort to push him away from her. Merlin leaned in, using his body weight and strength against the struggling witch, keeping her pinned under him. And they struggled together for several minutes, their bodies intertwining into a mess as the soft grunts escaped their throats.

Somewhere along the way, the two made eye contact and both froze, realizing for the first time how close they were to each other. Their warm breaths grazed the other's cheeks, and both blushed in embarrassment. But neither moved to correct their position, almost leaning in towards each other instead. Merlin noticed how pale she was under him (despite the one bleeding being him), and maybe even the heart beat quickening as the blue set of eyes met the green. Like sky meeting the earth.

Was it his heart or her heart that was thumping so dangerously loud?

"What is going on here?" An old voice interrupted them, and both turned to look at a rather outraged physician standing at the door.

Merlin looked between himself, his assailant, their current position, and the condition of his room.

Oh.

And within seconds, Merlin leaped up, away from the thoroughly humiliated witch. "This isn't what it looks like," he tried to explain himself, as Morgana pulled her knees close to her chest, curling into herself. When did her dress rip so much? And when did half of his shirt disappear?

The only reply he received in return was the infamous silver eyebrow rising to previously never seen heights.

* * *

 **A/N: Two things I need to talk about. That last scene, I honestly don't know what happened there, but I am sincerely unapologetic. It was like both love each other seriously, and maybe even violently, but neither are willing to come out on it. And then it was like they hated each other to death. And the tone was supposed to be lighter, even though it was violent. I honestly don't know what happened, and the scene played out a little differently in my head than it did on paper. Although I should probably change the rating on this story with all the suggestive themes I have going.**

 **The whole 2** **nd** **person, fourth wall breaking section before the entire fight between Merlin and Morgana was honestly surprising. It honestly gave a far different, contemplative touch to this fic that I hadn't thought possible and I sincerely enjoyed it. Many of those statements, though, can relate to anyone really well. I think that's probably why I wrote it like that. (P.S. there are a lot of hints in there that I really should have kept quiet. I won't say anymore, and I think it might be a good idea if you don't either** **)**

 **For anyone wondering why Merlin is still alive despite being hurt by the blade, my theory is that any normal mortal would die from a mere scratch. But to kill Emrys, you need to stab into the heart. That's the theory at least.**

 **I enjoyed writing this chapter. It is one of the most important chapters on this story. The most important chapter is the climax, and that will be a different load of fun to write, but it won't come for a while.**

 **Thank you for all the reviews and favorites! They are very sweet and encouraging. I try to PM each on individual basis, but I'm just bad at replying in general. That doesn't mean I don't appreciate your comments/feedback: I really do!**

 **If you enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it, please leave a comment behind!**


	5. Chapter 4: When Pain Strikes

Chapter 4: When Pain Strikes

 _ **Previously on "With No Regrets":**_

 _And within seconds, Merlin leaped up, away from the thoroughly humiliated witch. "This isn't what it looks like," he tried to explain himself, as Morgana pulled her knees close to her chest, curling into herself. When did her dress rip so much? And when did half of his shirt disappear?_

 _The only reply he received in return was the infamous silver eyebrow rising to previously never seen heights._

* * *

"Ah!" Merlin yelled out loud, just as Gaius tightened the bandage around his chest.

"Sit still, Merlin," the physician reprimanded, the old eyes grazing over his ward to make sure he hadn't missed any wounds. The young warlock was currently sitting on Gaius's cot, shirtless and restless. He looked around, eyes darting frantically to avoid any eye contact with the witch currently sitting across from him, near the workbench. The same witch who was currently glaring daggers at the squirming man in front of her, while holding a white cloth to her head to add pressure to the shallow cut she received from the collision with the stone wall. She was covered in Gaius's thin blanket, the best solution to concealing her after the squabble ripped parts of her dress.

"Why does a _servant_ get treatment before a noble," Morgana grumbled. At the harsh glare Gaius sent her way, she immediately looked away like a chastised child.

"Probably because said noble attacked my ward during sleeping hours," Gaius responded protectively, finishing his ministrations before turning to his next patient. Finding the children on top of a broken bed in a rather suggestive position, no one could blame the physician for the mini heart attack that he almost had, especially when he saw his ward bleeding. That blood did little to quell his imagination; he was an old man and he had seen so many bizarre things in his years. The explanation that Merlin provided did clear up their situation, although it left the old physician with another heart attack when he found out Morgana knew Merlin had magic.

"Can't Merlin just heal himself?" Morgana asked, eyeing Merlin suspiciously. Gaius lifted her chin, looking at the small wound on her forehead.

"Rubbish at healing spells," the servant responded from the corner. He didn't bother to ask how her spells were coming along. Considering their current situation, he thought it would be rather uncomfortable question to ask.

"This one is a shallow wound as well," They physician informed her. "Did you experience any unconsciousness?" Morgana shook her head. "Good. Then I simply recommend bed rest." He applied a salve before picking up a long cotton strip, and wrapping it around her head.

"What are we going to tell Uther?" Morgana asked. "I don't just show up with a head wound the next morning and expect the King to not question it."

"You fell off the bed from a nightmare?" Merlin suggested. He slid from the cot, wincing as he tested his arm movement and flexed his fingers on his bandaged right hand.

Morgana rolled her eyes. "I'm not as clumsy as you." Merlin pulled on the nearest clean shirt, slipping into it and trying his best to hide his pain.

"There's a pain reliever in the left cabinet," Gaius informed his ward, nodding sympathetically in the general direction.

"Gaius'll come up with a good excuse, don't worry," Merlin told Morgana, as he found the vial and gulped down its contents. He grimaced, his face scrunching in disgust, before he continued. "He always does for me." And then Merlin clamped his mouth shut, realizing what he had just said.

"Yes, I'm sure he does," Morgana replied coolly. "It's nice you had a support, someone you could trust with your magic. I suppose you don't know how it feels to be alone and scared, where the very man who grew you killed innocent magic users before your eyes!"

Gaius found himself moving to the side, studying both children attentively, but giving them the space. They needed to talk this out.

"If I talked, it would not have been just be my head, Morgana." Merlin said quietly, avoiding her gaze once again. "If I talked, I could have been taking Gaius with me."

"Yes," Morgana said, as tears unintentionally slipped from her eyes. "If you talked with me, Gaius might have been in trouble. If you hadn't poisoned me, the Kingdom would fall." The tears continued to fall, and before she could even register what she was saying, the words surged out. "Tell me, do you know what I've been through because you deemed me worthless compared to any life in this Kingdom? Because you made baseless assumptions on where my loyalties lie?"

There was no response, and Merlin continued to stare at the wooden floor rather than face Morgana directly. The witch got up from the stool, her anger and sorrow driving her speech.

"I was poisoned with hemlock, Merlin. When Morgause took me, I was dying. Very close to death in fact, and you didn't leave much for an antidote to be made, nor was there anything that could bring me back when I went so far. My sister begged the triple goddess, and poured her magic into me.

And I tried to heal. I fought while my very blood burned with fires straight from hell, and my skull was crushed under the force of the skies. I fought while something within broke and I had no friends of mine from Camelot to support me. I had no will and I begged Morgause to kill me, to let it end." Her voice fell to a whisper. Merlin closed his eyes tightly, clenching the blanket on the bed, but he didn't say a word. He didn't stop her. "She kept me going, Merlin. I barely knew her and _she believed in me_." Morgana moved forward slowly, taking a couple of steps closer to the warlock.

"The first day I woke up without the pain coursing through my veins, I found out that well over six months had passed. The first day I was well enough to stand on my own, I vowed the destruction of Camelot because I had believed that Uther was the one who had driven you to hate magic as well. I was naïve enough to believe that Uther's fear had driven your actions. How was I supposed to know that the man I once adored had no regard for my life or choices?"

Merlin didn't answer, keeping his eyes shut, but there was a small tremor in his hunched form as the man attempted to keep his sobs within himself.

"You were brave enough to watch me die before! Why do you turn away now? Answer me!" Morgana demanded, sobbing out loud. She fell to her knees, and the pain that she had held within her heart flowed out. Her magic demanded the same, but she controlled it, pushing it back.

"I am so sorry," Merlin finally whispered brokenly as he finally lifted his face to see the woman on the ground.

Morgana pulled herself together, taking a deep breath and wiping her face quickly. "Sorry doesn't cut it." She pushed herself to her feet and walked to the sitting warlock, pushing something into his wrapped hand.

Merlin looked down at a small vial placed in his hand. Hemlock.

And the message was rather loud and clear.

His head shot up, a stunned expression across his face, while tears slid from his eyes. "Morgana?"

"Afraid of death, Merlin? Then how did you think you could kill me?" Morgana asked, the haughtiness returning to her voice. "Morgause always said, those who dare to kill mustn't be afraid to die."

"Morgana," Merlin called to her brokenly. She laughed in a fit of madness, but the tears still poured, sorrow etched into the maniacal laugh.

"Look what you did," She snickered, quieting down as she continued. "I'm broken, and I can never trust again." And she glared at him angrily, willing him to drink the hemlock and just leave her life.

Merlin lifted the vial up, revealing the vile liquid to the physician. Gaius's eyes widened as he stepped forward, afraid of what his self-sacrificing ward would do. "Merlin," the old man croaked, but Merlin shook his head, holding his arm out as if to stop his mentor.

"No, Gaius," He whispered. The warlock turned to Morgana, walking up to her in slow calculated steps. The witch eyed him uneasily, allowing him to come so that there was about a foot distance between the two.

Merlin uncorked and lifted the vial, oddly reminiscent of the day he had drunk poison for Arthur. Gaius and Morgana held their breaths, both anxious for vastly different reasons.

And he placed it gently on the workbench next to the witch. "No, Morgana," He finally said, looking into her eyes with a new conviction. "I'm not afraid of death."

He sighed and allowed his left hand to reach up and tangle into his messy hair. "I'm afraid, yes. But not of death. Somewhere during my stay here in Camelot, my death became insignificant." He eyes burned with passion. "Because as long as Arthur lives and Camelot stands, I don't care what I have to do to achieve that. Morgana, I would poison you a thousand times over if I can keep this Kingdom standing." His eyes softened as he watched her tear up again.

"I will cry, I will hold you and wish it were different. But if I must lay down lives to save that which is important for destiny, then I will not hesitate."

"You have to understand, there's more at stake here than just you or me. And while it is easy for you to blame me, you know better than I know what actions of yours led me to mistrust you.

You went against Uther to save innocents and I adored your strength. You saved my life multiple times, and you have my earnest gratitude. And then you started to stray, you wanted to use backhand methods to try and force magic back into a Kingdom that fears the unknown power. Instead of patience, you used violence. And you didn't hesitate to sacrifice lives needlessly. You didn't give Arthur a chance. You behaved just like Uther."

"Don't!" Morgana spat, angry that he would dare to compare her.

"I wish I guided you," Merlin said softly. "I wish I could have provided you more than the indirect help. But Morgana, you're forgetting my status. I'm just a servant. And if you knew I had magic, you could use it against me."

Morgana shook her head desperately. "I just wanted help, Merlin. I wanted support."

"Uther might forgive his ward for having magic, but he would kill me. He would kill anyone affiliated with me. I couldn't take that risk," Merlin tried to explain. He slowly shook his head. "But you are right. What I did to you was wrong." The young man got up, walking away from the main chambers into his ravaged chamber, disappearing into the dark entrance. Morgana and Gaius both stared after him, confused.

The physician's ward walked back, the glinting blade in his hand. He lifted the blade up, and placed it gently next to the vial of hemlock, close to Morgana. "You can fight me Morgana. You can try all you want to kill me, and I will fight back. I won't give up my life, but I'm willing to bear the burden of your hatred."

Gaius looked between the two magic users, a fierce determination radiating off both. Neither would give up, he realized, just as Morgana reached for the blade. She picked it up and pulled it within her blanket, holding it cautiously under the thin cloth.

"I know you have magic," She told the young warlock, eyeing him curiously. "I can tell Uther."

Merlin nodded, noting the valid threat. "And I know you have magic. Uther may not believe, but I'm sure Arthur could find a way to be convincing." _You have your King, I have mine._

Morgana's eyebrow raised amused. The servant was never so bold in front of her, always meek and hiding. Who knew it to be a disguise for this powerful warlock. She turned away, stomping out of the physician's chambers, smiling inwardly. She knew Arthur probably wouldn't believe Merlin, even if the servant did spill the beans on her. But she did like Merlin's offer. Who knows, she might pick up a thing or two from fighting him. Once he's out of the way, she can go back to trying to destroy Camelot.

There was the situation with Morgause however. Morgana supposed she could probably hold the high priestess off for a while. And she also hoped the Black Sorcerer did as he promised and convinced her.

After all, Morgause would just have to wait for the tears of Uther Pendragon to fall. Because the tears of Merlin enticed far greater entertainment.

 **[** **Merlin Merlin Merlin** **]**

The royal guards, Ronald and Jay, valued their jobs. No, "valued" would be too small of a word to use to describe their feelings for their status. They felt honored to be able to stay up all night for the protection of their prince, quite to the amusement of a certain manservant ("You want to stay up all night for the prat? That's a worse job than mine!"). If anyone asked, they felt that they fulfilled the job with excellence, even if they fell asleep or got distracted at times. After all, it was only after these two guards were appointed two years ago that the number of assassins and threats dwindled to near zeroes. Again, a certain manservant would laugh, but this time he wouldn't explain why.

Regardless, Ronald and Jay quickly learned to tolerate abnormalities that occurred around Prince Arthur's chambers. If someone consistently threw coins down the hallway, even if it was every night, they didn't question it. Both of them would obediently go after the clinking noise. If Arthur's manservant insulted his master in front of them, they would ignore it. They learned the hard way that messing with the servant was just as bad as messing with the prince himself. If the said prince brought a sweet maidservant to his bedroom secretively, when he thought that no one was looking, the guards would ignore that as well. The prince was probably just enjoying himself for the night.

But they never saw another woman enter the chambers so late at night. And they never saw the maidservant angry or sad. She was happy, but even more interesting, the Prince was happy. It didn't take long for the men to realize that the couple were indeed in love.

Interestingly, it was this maidservant and that manservant that caused the guards to have a newfound respect for their prince. Prince Arthur treated all life equal. It offered a different sort of hope for the citizens of Camelot.

Tonight was no different, and they watched from the corner of their eyes Arthur sneaking Guinevere into his chambers. The guards heard a small giggle escape from the chambers, and smiled.

"And then, I stab the rouge in front of me, pushing the sword deep in," Arthur explained, proudly. He stood at the foot of the bed, acting out the part as he stabbed the imaginary air bandit. He watched the caramel eyes watch him in fondness and a good dose of pride. "And guess where Merlin was the entire time?"

Gwen rolled her eyes, knowing where this was going. "He's hiding behind the trees, like a girl," Arthur teaser, finding himself easily falling into insulting his servant. Gwen giggled good naturedly, before deciding to speak up for her absent friend.

"You do realize that Merlin walking into the line of fire every day with you is very brave," Gwen explained. "Not every manservant does that."

"I would actually prefer he wouldn't follow me like a lost puppy," Arthur replied in jest, although there were some serious undertones in the statement. The prince didn't joke when he wished his manservant had a little more self-preservation.

Arthur walked to his lady, leaning in to snatch a kiss. "Besides," He said softly as he broke from her. "You act as if he came on all of those quests for me."

"He didn't?" Gwen asked, leaning in so that her forehead was against his.

"No," Arthur explained as he sat on the bed next to her. "He is very much in love with Morgana." Gwen tilted her head disbelievingly. "Come on, even you must have seen him depressed for the past months and how happy he was today at Morgana's arrival."

Gwen looked at him thoughtfully. The prince did have a point. "I never noticed," Gwen replied softly. She slowly pulled away from him, standing up to make her way to the door. "Talking of which, I should go check up on Morgana."

"It's alright, Guinevere," Arthur explained quickly, trying to pull his girl back. "Morgana is probably resting right now. We best leave her alone."

"I'm sure she's scared," Gwen responded. "She needs someone to be with her."

Arthur hesitated, looking between his bed and the door. "You're right," he finally conceded, walking with her to the door. "Would you like me to escort you, milady," he asked, a twinkle in his eyes as he watched her laugh once again.

"No, thank you, good knight," she curtsied in a somewhat mock gesture. "I don't believe your father would approve a royal escort for a maid."

Arthur scowled. "He wouldn't know. Besides Merlin strongly believes that there is some threat out in the dark. And as outrageous as his claims are, he is rarely wrong," Arthur said, before quickly adding in more. "Don't tell him I said that. I wouldn't here the end of it."

Gwen smiled gently at the small statement. It astonished her how much the two men trusted each other with their lives. And frankly, Gwen trusted no one else with Arthur's life more than Merlin. Another thought struck her, and she looked at Arthur. "I believe Merlin might be right, Arthur. For the past couple of days, I felt someone was following me around the castle as well."

That seemed to catch Arthur's attention instantly. "Should I be with you? Is this a sorcerer?"

"I don't know," Gwen answered, honestly. "I'm fine alone. I'm much stronger than you give me credit for. And I carry your dagger around with me."

Arthur nodded reluctantly, even as he watched Gwen creak the door open. "If anything goes wrong, please don't hesitate to call for me." He pulled her back in, leaving the door slightly ajar (much to the gaping faces of the royal guards outside), before kissing her passionately. The prince slowly pulled away. "If anything happened to you, I don't think I can live, Guinevere."

Gwen breathed out, blushing slightly. "I will," she promised, holding his face within her palm. And then she walked out, closing the door gently behind her and nodding slightly at the guards in front of her, somewhat bashful that they had seen her kissing the royal. She walked away quickly, intending to make her way to Morgana's chambers and check on her mistress before she retired for the night.

The torch lights were the only source of illumination in the hallway, and Guinevere slipped through, hurriedly making her way. It was about halfway between Arthur's and Morgana's chambers that she felt a chill run down her spine.

Someone was following her.

She turned around quickly, only to face the empty corridor. A slight rush of wind flew in, causing the lights to flicker. Gwen took in a shaky breath as she turned around. Maybe she should have taken Arthur's offer.

She heard an echo behind her tapping footsteps. That wasn't hers. She turned quickly again, in time to catch the edge of a black cloak run behind one of the alley ways. Her breath stilled as she walked forwards, softly so that she didn't make any noise and catch her stalker unawares.

And then she moved rapidly, unsheathing Arthur's dagger as she attacked the man around the corner, pushing him down into the main corridor, and into the light. His black hood fell, as his hands went up in surrender. "Gwen! It's just me!"

Gwen stopped her attack to see her pursuer. He was young man, tan skinned with hair cut close to the skull. And those caramel eyes that stared back into hers were eerily familiar. They looked just like her mother's.

Gwen lowered her dagger down. "Elyan?"

* * *

 **A/N: I'm sorry about this chapter, but I was stuck on a writer's block. So, sincere apologies from me for more boring conversations between characters and delay on updating (and the somewhat shorter chapter). I'm going to try and get another chapter up by Sunday, but it's honestly going to depend on how willing my characters are with cooperating with me.**

 **Reviews are golden! Please leave your thoughts**

 **Disclaimer: Merlin isn't mine. And I hate writing disclaimers.**


	6. Chapter 5: The Short-lived World

Chapter 5: The Short-lived world

 _ **Previously on "With No Regrets":**_

" _Don't worry," the sorcerer informed a shocked Morgana. "I will speak with Morgause about this. You only need to take care of Emrys." He turned around disappearing into the darkness._

 _Morgana supposed she could probably hold the high priestess off for a while. And she also hoped the Black Sorcerer did as he promised and convinced Morgause._

* * *

Morgause pulled out the scrying bowl, filling it up to the rim with the cool water that dripped from the crystals of the cave. Setting the bowl on the nearest edge, she cupped her hands around the basin, closing her eyes as she whispered in the ancient tongue. _Water clear as skies, show me what hides in the distance._

The liquid glowed with a soft golden hue for a brief minute before the surface reflected an image. Morgause watched in fascination and anticipation, a sadistic desire to watch a certain king driven mad by her magic. What she saw instead was a perfectly peaceful King slumbering on his large bed. The high priestess reeled back in shock as the waters showed Morgana sneaking into the physician's chambers and attacking the servant boy, her hand tightly grasping an intricate dagger. The image quickly shimmered out of focus.

What was Morgana doing? Both sisters had planned to install the mandrake root just underneath the King's bed, and yet, it seems Morgana had decided to change the plans. Without informing her.

Morgause groaned in frustration, smashing the basin onto the rock floor. Hadn't they decided that one lowly servant wasn't worth the aggravation? Hadn't they decided their cause would be greater, for the good of magic?

"Spying on Camelot?" A voice pulled her out of her thoughts. The high priestess turned around to locate the source. A figure made his way out of the top corner of the cave, dropping into the torch lit area closer to Morgause as if he were a gargoyle hidden in the shadows of the night.

Morgause lifted her hand defensively, standing straight with the confidence of the chosen servants to the Triple Goddess. She gazed down upon the crouched cloaked man in front of her.

"High Priestess Morgause," the Black Sorcerer acknowledged, standing up so that his eyes peaked through the hood.

"Who are you?" Morgause asked, gazing into the darkened eyes of the man standing before her.

"My name and title means little," the man explained. "I simply wanted to give back what belonged to you." So saying, the sorcerer pulled out the mandrake root, throwing it onto the cave floor.

The priestess looked between the root and the man, an indignant anger mixed with confusion. "Where did you get that?" The mad man didn't reply, standing still as his gaze followed the sorceress to the root. Morgause picked up the root. "Did you take this from Morgana?" The silence that followed seemed to confirm her suspicions, but she didn't stop her questions. "What did you tell Morgana?"

The man shrugged. "That which needs to be told." The answer was frustratingly vague and Morgause moved forward, keeping a cool façade as she tried to near the man. Anyone well versed in battle would acknowledge that a cover gave a rather unfair advantage to the disguised party. And it this case, the disguised was the Black Sorcerer.

"Why are you here?" Morgause asked as she inched forward. She would have kept going had the sorcerer not looked up, maintaining a steady eye contact that spoke on many volumes. _You come near me, and you won't live to see the next sunrise._ Morgause stilled, having felt the threat from the vengeful aura enveloping the man.

"If it is simply to give back the root, you can leave," Morgause started, a hesitant fear creeping into her voice, but the priestess made sure not to let too much through. She would never be seen weak.

The cloak head tilted. "Who said anything about the root?" And the aura rippled out, nearly forcing the priestess back.

"You said…" Morgause drifted, before being interrupted by the sorcerer. She unconsciously stepped back, even though the man stood as still as a statue in front of her.

"I said that 'I am here to give back that which belongs to you'," the sorcerer said, smugness creeping into the only visual portion of his attire: his eyes. "But first, I think a change of location is warranted." The sorcerer smiled as he lifted both of his hands. His eyes flashed brilliant gold.

The cave walls around them suddenly started rotating, twirling into a spiral of madness. Teleportation spell. Morgause fell dizzily to now dirt floor of the forest depths, latching her arm around what seemed to be a large stone.

 _Counter!_ Her mind screamed at her. _Counter the spell!_ She reached her arm up, pointing it towards the man, even as she sat next to the stone. "Return – " She started in the ancient tongue.

"No." The man's voice overshadowed her, as he stepped forward. "You will not be leaving from here." Morgause stumbled to her feet, rising as she felt her way up to 2 feet with the stone. And it was then she turned to look at her support.

It wasn't just a rock. It was a stone coffin.

She smirked, having understood whatever the sorcerer was scheming. "You plan to entomb me here?"

"Ah, the brilliance of the high priestess," the sorcerer said patronizingly, and Morgause almost blushed in embarrassment.

"And that is who I am." Morgause rose to her full height, her golden curls resting regally on her shoulders as she showcased her authority over magic. Even the darkness that currently surrounded her seemed to dim back as the moonlight fell upon her. "I am Morgause, high priestess and chosen servant to the Triple Goddess. I have command over the magic of life and death – "

"Blah blah blah," the voice interrupted, not caring to let the woman finish retelling her track record of achievement. "Spare me the resume elevator pitch." Morgause's eyes burrowed in confusion. _Elevator pitch?_

"Morgause," the sorcerer continued as he prowled around her, like lion with its prey. "I've told you twice already, but I'm simply returning the favor." He smirked, pulling up his arm as he shot a fire ball at her.

And Morgause blocked the attack easily. She didn't understand what the man was after, and she honestly didn't care. "You wish to defeat me with parlor tricks?"

The hood tilted his head, amused. "If you would like me to level up, you only need to say once." He gauged the distance between woman, himself and the coffin. "Morgause, my child," he called out. "I will show you something I always wished I could. I will show you the true extent of my power!"

The black sorcerer leapt into the air, both of his arms rising from his sides as his cloak flapped around him. For just one moment, he looked like a falcon diving in with its talons outstretched to snatch up its game. Morgause rose her hand defensively, intending to blast him backwards against some tree.

And then his hood fell back revealing his face. Morgause stilled as she recognized the man currently hovering midair. "You!"

The magic of the forest seemed to fuel the man, and his eyes flashed brilliant gold just as he landed in front of her, blasting the shocked woman against the stone as she fell unconscious.

The Black Sorcerer quickly pulled his hood up. "Ah, Morgause," he whispered as he stared at the limp body. "We can't have you say our name yet." He turned around, his golden eyes piercing straight into _you_.

The eyes flashed gold once more as the coffin lid securely locked in place, golden twines encompassing the rectangular slab of stone. "And we can't have you interfering with what will be done," he whispered to the cold wind. "I have nothing against you, I just hope you rot in there for eternity, high priestess."

The sorcerer turned away, having completed his mission. He walked a couple of yards before the vast usage of his magic finally caught up to him, and he collapsed against the nearest oak tree, grabbing the old mossy bark for support.

Morgause was gone. Out of the picture and everything was going perfectly, according to plan.

The black sorcerer smiled, triumphant. The smile widened, overflowing in unconstrained joy as his maniac laughs echoed across the silent forest.

"You laugh with great pleasure." A voice interrupted, stopping the laughs instantly. The sorcerer looked up to see a dark red cloaked figure standing in front of him.

"Oh, how wonderful," the Black Sorcerer deadpanned. He gestured nonchalantly to the figure in front of him. "I thought you to be dead."

The other cloak didn't say anything for a few minutes, observing the downed man instead. The Black Sorcerer ignored him, opting instead to reach within his cloak to massage his sore back. "What are you doing?" he finally asked.

"Fixing what you messed up." The reply was instant and unhesitant.

"You cannot kill Emrys. He is Magic incarnate." The red cloak argued.

"And no magic can return to the land when it is concentrated into one foolish child," the Black sorcerer countered, anger flaring in his eyes.

"You may be committing a great crime," the red cloak insisted. He still didn't move forward from where he stood, but his presence invoked something within the other man. "Think over this."

"The greatest crime I committed was when I watched my family fall and I chose not to help in order to save my own skin. I allowed them to be tortured and killed and I hesitated all along," the other man admitted shamefully.

"Listen to me-"

"No!" The sorcerer yelled, as he pulled himself to his feet. "I had killed you previously. Why torment me now? Leave!"

The Black Sorcerer turned away, almost hugging the tree behind him as he leaned against the rough bark. "Leave, my old friend." His tears streamed down his cheeks, not to be seen or heard by anyone.

Only the wind responded to his plea, as the fallen leaves rose from the dirt ground to fly away into the darkness. Twirling, rotating and dancing as if they were from a starry night in a far off magical land. The very same magical land that Camelot had refused to welcome.

The leaves danced across the surface of the many lakes and the tall grass of the large prairies. The flirted across the many patrols of the diverse kingdoms that would one day join to form Albion. Or at least, one would hope.

And they finally completed their journey, gently residing just outside the court of the Camelot.

The morning rays fell, wakening the castle. It was hours later that a certain servant and his prince tumbled out of the castle, their casual morning banter filling the chilly morning air. A grumbling witch followed after them, lifting her dress as she smiled and fake-welcomed the world around her.

And the leaves cried in despair, just as the young prince stomped over.

This was the world - the happiness – that will be so painfully short lived.

* * *

 **A/N: Another short chapter! Brilliant job, Moni. But seriously, I will try to get longer chapters coming out.**

 **And Moni's bad at keeping promises, but that doesn't stop me from trying. I'll try to get the next chapter up by Sunday, and most likely will get it up by next Thursday, and probably will miss that deadline as well, lol.**

 **Reviews are golden!**

 **Disclaimers are stupid. See Chapter 2.**

* * *

 **Update: Thank you to Reviewers!**

 **For all of you amazing people who read my story and are following me (all 73+ of you!), you have my deepest gratitude. Thank you sincerely.**


	7. Chapter 6: Senseless Titles

Chapter 6: Senseless Titles

 **Previously on With No Regrets:**

 _No guard ever saw another woman enter the chambers so late at night. And they never saw the maidservant angry or sad. She was happy, but even more interesting, the Prince was happy. It didn't take long for the men to realize that the couple were indeed in love._

 _Interestingly, it was this maidservant and that manservant that caused the guards to have a newfound respect for their prince. Prince Arthur treated all life equal. It offered a different sort of hope for the citizens of Camelot._

* * *

Arthur Pendragon woke up to a beautiful sunny morning. No thanks to his manservant, mind you. Not completely out of the unusual, Merlin wasn't in Arthur's chambers at the crack of dawn, not fulfilling his honored duty of serving the prince. Or in Arthur's thoughts, at least.

And normally the prince liked to wake up early, attempt to dress himself, and then wait so that he can hurl nearest objects and long list of chores at the servant when he finally chose to show his face. But today was different.

Arthur smiled down at a particular parchment on his desk. If truth be told, he was rather proud of his idea. He also knew that this idea would remain just a beautiful dream unless Merlin was there with him. Of course, he would never admit that he need his servant's help.

The prince sighed in exasperation when he realized that Merlin was still absent. Looks like he would have to fetch the man himself. He quickly folded the sheet and placed it in his jacket. _This is stupid,_ Arthur grumbled to himself as he walked towards the general direction of Gaius's chambers. _The Prince of Camelot doesn't wake up his servant._

The halls of the castle were lively with activity as servants rushed to get the arrangements for the night's feast completed. Morgana will receive a grand welcome back, Arthur knew his father would make sure of it. The prince himself felt rather serene now that the woman he grew up with was finally safe within Camelot's walls. And the woman he loved was in his embrace (at least at nights, without his father's knowledge). Everything was nearly perfect. Except for a certain servant not in his chambers before sunrise.

Arthur controlled his emotions as he pushed open Gaius's door. "Gaius, where is Merlin?" started the blonde before he paused to assess the physician's room. The court physician was nowhere to be found, but his servant was sleeping on the patient's bed. With bandages around his chest and hand.

Arthur rushed over quickly, concern ebbing through his chest. "Merlin!" The servant grumbled softly, before turning to his side, grabbing a bit of the thin blanket so that it cocooned around his legs.

"Five more minutes, Gaius," he mumbled. "The prat can wait." Arthur's eyebrows rose, amused as he quickly schooled his face to no longer give any semblance of concern.

"Wake up, idiot," he said as he lightly tapped the brunette's head.

"Arthur?" Merlin asked, cracking his eyes open to see his master. Oh shit. The warlock picked himself so that he leaned on his elbows, hissing a bit when the movement jarred his injury. Arthur rushed forward again, helping the servant sit up. After both men were comfortable with Merlin's sitting position, the servant flashed his signature impish grin. "Good Morning!" he called out cheerfully.

The prince rolled his eyes. "You didn't wake me up, Merlin. And I told you the previous night that today was important."

"Well, forgive me, _sire_ ," Merlin started, mockingly. "As you can probably see, I'm not really in the best condition."

"What happened?" Arthur asked, trying to keep his voice steady and nonchalant. He settled in the stool opposite to his servant. His fool of a servant didn't need to get any wrong illusions about the prince caring for a servant.

Merlin smiled back, fully understanding how the Arthur showed his emotions. After all, he was with this man a little over three years; he knew his master well. Merlin untangled his blanket off his feet before rising off the bed. "My bed collapsed last night," the servant answered honestly. "And I ended up bruised." No need to tell him the circumstances surrounding the current situation. He had a feeling he wouldn't hear the end of it if he said that Morgana was in his chambers last night.

Arthur laughed. "You're such a girl, Merlin. A _bed_ hurt you?" Merlin rolled his eyes as he grabbed his shirt, jacket and a new neck kerchief.

As if on cue, Morgana burst into the chambers. "Gaius, tell me you have a stronger medicine for this headache," the witch called out before stilling at the sight of Arthur. Merlin felt himself blush unconsciously as he looked away from the woman. The prince stared at the witch. More specifically at her bandaged head.

He quickly rose to his feet to stand in front of her, concern evident in his voice. "Morgana, are you alright?" He grabbed her shoulders as he examined her. What's with this morning and his injured friends?

She nodded, certain warmth making its way through her chest at the worry-laced voice directed at her. "I'm fine," she said as she looked back at the servant in the corner. Merlin returned the gaze, but was shaking his head subtly for some reason. "I just fell off a bed."

She could have sworn that that warlock looked like he was ready to bang his head against the nearest wall. "You fell off _a_ bed and hurt yourself?" Arthur repeated, letting go of her.

"Yes?" she answered back somewhat hesitantly. "It was late last night, and I had come to Gaius for medicine." Arthur turned to face Merlin. The servant looked like he would curl onto himself in the nearest closet.

"You were here last night?" Arthur asked, more suggestively.

"Yes," Morgana replied, confused at the interaction between the master and servant. "Is there something wrong with that?"

Arthur shook his head as he walked over to drape his arm around the beet-red man. "No, it's just that Merlin here broke his bed last night." Morgana blushed as Merlin ducked his head. "You didn't happen to hear anything about it, did you?"

"No," Morgana answered quickly, although her voice revealed more than it really should.

Arthur smirked, finally letting Merlin go. "Must have happened _after_ you fell off the bed then."

"You wanted a stronger dose of that tonic?" Merlin asked Morgana, attempting to change the topic. Morgana nodded and she moved towards the servant as he fished out another vial from the cabinet drawer. Arthur watched them both, eyeing them with amusement and a hint of concern.

"How did you guys break a bed though?" Arthur mused. "That must have been – "

"It was old, and rackety," Merlin interrupted, not intending to listen to his master any further.

Arthur smiled unashamed. "So, both on the same bed then?"

Morgana attempted to glare at the royal. After a rather futile attempt to maintain eye contact, she turned her attention to the medicine vial. The witch uncorked the small container and lifted it, intending to down its contents in one go (if only to stop the mini-Arthurs that were currently stabbing her head). Just as the glass lip reached her mouth, she halted. She turned around fearfully to see the secret warlock observing her.

His eyes fell sadly when he saw the doubt in her eyes. "It's not poisoned," he whispered, before turning his attention to the obnoxious prince. The blonde man was currently congratulating himself – Merlin could tell from that smug expression.

Merlin sighed as he rubbed his forehead. "You must have come to Gaius's chambers for a better reason than tormenting us."

Arthur nodded, his face finally falling into a more contemplative look. "I need you to do something."

Morgana placed the still full vial on the table: better to live with a headache than to die trusting Merlin again. She crossed her arms, wrapping into herself like a scared child. "Well, I'll leave you two men to your schemes." She started walking towards the door before Arthur interrupted her.

"Actually, you could probably help as well." Arthur gazed into the woman's eyes, reassuring her with a small smile. "It's about Guinevere."

[ **Merlin Merlin Merlin** ]

"Sneaking into a heavily guarded citadel in the early hours of the day is an art, my friend," Gwaine explained, waving his hands in the air. Percival and Lancelot crouched behind him, zoning out all the incessant chatter from the normally drunk man. They were currently peeking out from the bushes couple feet away from the guarded gateway. Needless to say, there seemed to be more guards than usual at the entrance, and Lancelot found himself wondering how they would ever make it into the lower town, much less the actual castle. Especially with Gwaine. Lancelot turned his attention back to the talking man.

"See, the number of guards provides little help, frankly," Gwaine stated, nonchalantly dissing the Kingdom's security. "Merlin taught me this trick, and we can waltz in there naked without anyone noticing." The charming rogue flipped his hair to the side, flashing a brilliant grin that would have made anyone swoon. Not the two men beside him, it seems. His smile wavered only slightly as Percival and Lancelot sighed simultaneously in exasperation.

"Do you have a plan, Gwaine?" Lancelot asked. The brunette nodded cheerfully. He moved forward, still in his crouched position, and gestured the men behind him to follow.

"We enter the gates, and we meet up at far right side of the gate – about four houses away from the main gate of the caste." The drunkard explained. Percival nodded obediently, listening attentively to the rather haphazard plan.

Lancelot didn't quite agree as quickly. "And how do you plan to enter?" A mischievous smile encompassed half of Gwaine's face, as he reached the hem of his shirt and pulled it off. Lancelot and Percival watched confused as Gwaine shot up to his feet, twirling the shirt above his head and shrilling at the top of his voice as he ran away from their hiding spot.

"Look at me!" Gwaine called to the guards. "I'm the crazy shirtless sorcerer!"

The two men shot to their feet as well, as they watched all the guards abandon their stations to chase after the self-proclaimed sorcerer.

"And I'm here to make everyone's shirts disappear!" Gwaine cackled for a good measure, as he sprinted out away from the citadel and back into the woods.

[ **Merlin Merlin Merlin** ]

"What is this?" Merlin asked as he peered down at the unfolded parchment on the bench table. Morgana peeked over the secret sorcerer's shoulder, attempting to decipher the elaborate diagram.

"It's a dress." Arthur scowled as he grabbed the sheet from table before placing it down on the bench again. "And you're looking at it in the wrong direction."

Merlin shrugged as he looked back at the doodles. "I don't think it does a difference," he mumbled. Arthur glared at him.

"I designed it myself," Arthur said, proudly. "For Guinevere." He looked down at the table shyly as his hand automatically reached to the back of his neck. "I intend to propose to her in the future, but I wanted to give her a gift now." He smiled softly. "To show her how much I appreciate her. And since Guinevere really likes whatever I make for her – "

"You tried your hand in fashion," Merlin interrupted. "You should stick to sword fighting, your highness," the servant stated mockingly.

"It's not good?" Arthur asked, somewhat saddened already.

"It's an atrocity," Merlin deadpanned. "Far worse than that ridiculous hat you made me wear for those feasts." Arthur's face fell, but he quickly schooled it. Arthur grabbed his masterpiece off the table once again, handing it to Morgana.

"That's because you, _Mer_ lin, know very little about what a woman would like," Arthur retorted. Merlin shrugged.

Morgana looked down at the 'dress'; however, her thoughts floated elsewhere. "You love Guinevere?" She asked, more astonished than anything else. Morgana's maidservant marrying Prince Arthur. Her maidservant sitting on the throne of Camelot. Her throne.

Arthur nodded, smiling. "But she's a servant," Morgana started hesitantly. "Uther would never agree." Merlin watched her, a little confused. Morgana ignored him, addressing the prince instead.

"And you were the one who taught me to see beyond the covers, to appreciate beyond just statuses," Arthur explained, the smile still encompassing his face. "Father might not agree, but that doesn't mean he's right. Guinevere is a kind-hearted person, and I can't think of anyone who would better fit for the title of Queen than her."

And Morgana unconsciously smiled back, genuinely pleased with that answer, but not wholeheartedly. A part of her argued that it was her throne, her role to be the queen. Not only had that been the expectation her whole life, Morgause had instilled in her the past year that it was her duty to bring magic back to Camelot.

The remaining part of her was happy. Gwen was an absolute sweetheart, and if anyone knew more about the servant, it would be her. Morgana knew and understood what Arthur said when he proclaimed that she would be fit for the title. To be honest, it also felt liberating, not to have to stand in those expectations and marry a man she would never love.

That didn't mean she wasn't jealous though.

At Merlin's glance, Morgana pulled herself out of her thoughts, returning her gaze to the diagram. The witch soon found herself trying to hide her laugh; Merlin wasn't joking when he said that the "dress" was an atrocity.

Normally, she would be with Merlin, and wouldn't be afraid to express her feelings. She had turned to Arthur to explain just how inefficient and ridiculous his design was, but when she saw his face, she couldn't bring herself to do it. "It's a beautiful dress, Arthur," Morgana replied. Yet, no matter how much she disliked the idea of Gwen on her throne, she would never allow her to be presented in this. "We could do with some edits to the design," Morgana suggested, sitting down near a bench and picked up a quill.

Arthur leaned in, watching her draw across the parchment and occasionally making comments. Listening to their conversation, Merlin couldn't help but smile. The warlock watched as the prince looked at the witch thoughtfully, finally understanding the impracticality of his original design. Despite Arthur's initial incredulousness, anyone could see that the twinkle in his eyes.

Merlin's smile faded as he realized for the first time in a year what Arthur didn't have these past couple of months; what _he_ didn't have.

The bond that both boys held with Morgana was special. The bond that only friends possessed. And how did Merlin think that he could accomplish his destiny without his friends by his side? When everything he did was for their sake, how did he neglect to include Morgana in his view of the future? If something had happened to her, they would be left with a gap in their heart that they could never fill.

Morgana pushed her curls back, turning back to see Merlin staring at the two royals. "What are you looking at," she asked, curiously. Merlin snapped out of his thoughts, shaking his head briefly.

At Arthur's more teasing glance, he coughed awkwardly as he turned away. "Nothing," he mumbled. "I'm going to go see if Gaius needs help."

"Merlin," Arthur called out before the servant could run out of the chambers. "I thought I told you that you had work to do." Merlin looked at him quizzically. "I need you to borrow one of Guinevere's dresses."

"Okay," Merlin started. "I'll ask her later tonight – "

"Without her knowing." Arthur spoke over the servant's voice, drowning him out.

Merlin rose his eyebrow. "You want me to steal?"

"Borrow," the blonde corrected, folding the parchment. "And you can do that while I preoccupy her."

Merlin shrugged. "Fine," he conceded. "I steal, while you distract."

Arthur ignored him, turning to Morgana instead. "And you can help him. If I leave it to Merlin, I'll end up with a petticoat in my hands." The prince chuckled at his own joke as he grabbed the hilt of his sword while he moved towards the door. "Let's get going!" The prince walked out.

Merlin glanced briefly at Morgana before running after his master. "Now?"

"No, Merlin. We'll take a two-hour break where you muck the stables and I watch – of course we're going now!" Arthur brisk walked through the hallway. Morgana followed behind the two men, lifting her skirt slightly to catch up to the two men. "Have any problems, _Mer_ lin?

"No, it's just a bit," Merlin thought for a bit. "spontaneous."

"Such big words," Arthur teased. "Don't think so hard, Merlin."

"It's not even that 'big'," Merlin mumbled to himself.

Morgana shook her head, unintentionally smiling at the interaction. Seems like she missed more than just the throne of Camelot. The realization, weirdly, gave her a sense of peace. The entire time she was with Morgause, there was this tension – a stressful feeling where the constant question of what would happen if she failed to secure the throne. There was no answer. While Morgause had stood by her, the care and love she felt when she was with Arthur and Guinevere was different.

And here in Camelot, next to her – dare she say it? – friends, she found the answer to her question. They would help her.

They might help her despite her magic.

Might.

Morgana found her conviction wavering, even as her childhood memories protested. Would they? She shook her head, quickly catching up to the two men, and grumbled under her breath as they entered the courtyard.

 _Merlin didn't_ , a voice whispered softly.

* * *

 **A/N: I apologize for the short chapter (after so long). Writer's block and busy schedule.**

 **There was supposed to be a whole "unintentional" training sequence between Merlin and Morgana, where Morgana is trying to kill an oblivious Arthur while they walk to Guinevere's house. It got deleted, since much of it is filler material.**

 **Thank you for reading! Stay tuned for the next chapter: there may be a 'reunion' of sorts with certain would-be knights, the prince, and our favorite warlock. Maybe.**


	8. Chapter 7: Delusional Minds

Chapter 7: Delusional Minds

 **Previously on** _ **With No Regrets**_ **:**

 _Gwen lowered her dagger down as she stared at the tan-skinned young man in front of her. "Elyan?"_

" _We enter the gates, and we meet up at far right side of the gate – about four houses away from the main gate of the caste." Gwaine explained to Lancelot and Percival._

" _I intend to propose to her in the future, but I wanted to give her a gift now." Arthur smiled softly. "To show her how much I appreciate her."_

* * *

Gwen angrily placed a bowl of water on the wooden table, throwing a couple of strips of clean cotton into the bowl. Elyan cowered on the other side, fully aware that he was on the receiving end of her ire. After his sister nearly killed him, Elyan had followed her from the castle to her house in the lower town. Gwen had allowed him, being kind enough to provide a temporary shelter and fresh cloth to bandage the bruise on his shoulder.

She did little to make any conversation, or indicate any forgiveness for his absence the past years. "Gwen? Please talk with me," the man pleaded to her, only to get a glare back in return.

"Gwen," he tried again as she moved away to sort out her small kitchen. "Gwen, I'm sorry – "

Gwen flipped around. "Sorry?" Her caramel eyes flared with anger. "Now you apologize! Tell me, Elyan, why did you leave four years ago?" Elyan opened his mouth and closed it quickly, not quite having a sufficient answer. "No excuse? Did you know father died? He was killed under a false pretense of practicing sorcery." Her eyes teared up and she turned away, not wanting to have her brother see her cry. She leaned heavily on the table in front of her. "He was trying to make a better life for me."

"Gwen," Elyan called gently behind her, walking up to hold her shoulders and turn her around. "I heard of what that tyrant Uther had done." Gwen moved into his shoulders crying softly as he held her.

"Papa would not have been killed if you were there." She whispered, before pulling away from him.

"I know," her brother replied sadly. "Believe me, I do. I found out recently and came back to check on you. See how you're doing."

Gwen straightened her back, pulling away from her brother as she wiped her tears quickly. "I'm doing perfectly fine." She gestured towards the bowl and the extra bandages she had placed previously. "You can bandage yourself and then leave."

"Gwen," Elyan started, only to be interrupted by the knock on the door. The man fell silent as Gwen walked towards the door.

It was early morning, so the lower town barely had a portion of its midday crowd. Gwen was mildly surprised to hear someone knock on her door so early in the day. She was much more surprised to find a shirtless Gwaine leaning on the doorframe, the muscles on his lean form shining from a sheen of sweat. He had a charming grin on his face as he flipped his brown bangs to the side.

"Milady," Gwaine called out, before winking.

[ **Merlin Merlin Merlin** ]

Camelot's lower town lacked its midday's bustling life when the first rays of sun hit her dirt. The early morning marked the kingdom's awakening, so who would notice a shirtless drunkard sneaking into town? Or the two other outcasts, wandering elsewhere, trying to follow their friend's instructions on finding a certain house?

Who would notice the Prince of Camelot bickering with his servant as they approached their destination, a certain witch close behind them? Or when the prince turns around and instructs his friends to go through the back alley?

Who would notice a shrouded figure, hidden in the shadows of the shacks, meticulously observing the convergence of chaos? The black sorcerer waited patiently for Arthur to leave, allowing Morgana and Merlin to wander into the deserted alley.

And then he followed, moving stealthily behind the couple.

"What are you doing?" A voice called out behind him. A red cloaked man stood behind the sorcerer, his eyes carefully observing the other man. The sorcerer halted, and without turning replied.

"Why are you following me?" He asked, annoyed.

The red cloak shrugged. "I don't have a choice, my friend. Your conscience knows that you are committing a crime."

The black sorcerer snorted as he turned to face the other man. "Hardly," he replied. "The death of Emrys will not only bring back my loved ones, it will bring peace to this bloodied land."

"So you convince yourself," the red cloak retorted. The sorcerer didn't say anymore, opting instead to observe the other man. "Why are you here? You no longer possess the blade. Your delusional mind possesses little threat against the mighty Emrys."

The black sorcerer rolled his eyes. "You underestimate me, my friend."

"Am I?" There was a silence that followed. A louder voice cut into their conversation, and the sorcerer peaked out form his hiding spot to hear Morgana calling after Merlin.

"Merlin," Morgana called out. "Where are we going?"

"It's the back path to Gwen's home. We can enter from the back while Arthur keeps her distracted," Merlin explained, before turning away to lead her down the street.

The black sorcerer pulled himself back, glaring at the red cloak next to him. "I need to speak with Morgana." He pulled himself together, as he prepared to sneak towards the next wooden shack.

"About what?" the other man interrupted his thoughts.

"You are my imagination, hallucination. What don't you know?"

"You will speak with Morgana again, and continue to convince her to bloody her hands because you are far too much of a coward to face _him_ directly." The red cloak spat at the other man, thoroughly disgusted by him. The sorcerer gazed back with pain-filled eyes.

"Don't say that, my brother." He finally whispered. "Everything I do is to bring you back to life."

"And I wish you moved on." The red cloak shook his head sadly. His cloak started to disintegrate as he fell apart in front of the other's eyes.

"I will," The black sorcerer promised, as he watched his brother disappear. "After my final mission, I will." And he quickly turned his attention back to the two magic users before him.

Morgana observed Merlin walk in front of her: the way he danced so subtly as he quickly and efficiently dodged the corners. And just moments before he was so clumsy, stumbling behind his prince, and holding up a false pretense to disguise his identity.

"Why do you live like this?" She asked. Her voice was not accusing, instead more curious. Merlin turned around confused.

"Live like what?"

Morgana shrugged, gesturing to the man in front of her. "Like this. Maintaining two personalities, keeping yourself hidden. It must hurt to have to hide yourself, to have so much power at your fingertips, but not be able to use it."

Merlin barely nodded, his face solemn as he opened his mouth to answer her. "It does hurt," the warlock confirmed. And then he smiled gently. "But then I see Gaius, and Arthur. And Gwen," he hesitated for a second before continuing. "I see you, Morgana. And I think it's okay to be hidden, as long as I can see you smile."

Morgana didn't answer, and started to walk. Merlin sighed softly before following behind her. After a couple of minutes of silence, she spoke again. "I grew up with Arthur," she whispered. Merlin didn't reply. "I grew up with him and Gwen. We would play around the castle and we had so much fun together. Sometimes, we would rope Leon in as well."

Morgana smiled fondly, as she slipped into her memories. "Once, Arthur and I thought it would be a brilliant idea to go to the lower town. Gwen always spoke about how her older brother helped Tom in the forge, just the way she helped her mother. So, we slipped through the guards."

"We had so much fun," Morgana found herself laughing. Merlin gazed at her, never having seen her speak so much to him. "We went to the bazaar in the town and stole fruits from the small stalls. We didn't need to, but we wanted to. And we were immature children, so what could stop us?"

Her smile faded. "But things quickly turned bad when we couldn't find Arthur. Apparently, some sorcerer kidnapped him. Gwen and I were frantic; we were merely eight." The tension was in her eyes, when she looked at Merlin, almost as if she lost Arthur just now. "We ran to the guards and explained the situation. The next couple of hours were a blur, and I remember Uther sitting next to me. He didn't say anything, but his eyes seemed to blame me."

"We found Arthur much later in the night. And the first question Uther asked, Arthur answered with a lie." Morgana's eyes flared with anger. "The prince of Camelot valiantly replied that it was all my idea. Uther beheaded the sorcerer, and placed his eight-year old ward in the dungeon cells. To discipline me, he had explained later."

The witch stopped in her tracks, turning to face Merlin. Both sorcerers now stood in a thin alley, surrounded by wooden shacks that rose to just above their heads. They were merely a couple of yards away from Gwen's home.

"You believe Arthur to be right and just, when he is nothing more than a puppet in Uther's hands. You believe his life to mean more than mine, and go to any extent to keep one man alive. You went so far as to forsake your kind to save the very man who would see you dead."

Merlin felt himself look at the ground, somewhat ashamed himself. "You can hardly blame a young child for trying to save himself," Merlin tried to explain. "Arthur is not the same man. He can think for himself and he knows to that all life is equal."

Morgana nodded. "I know," Her eyes softened as she gazed at the other man. "I know, because that night, Arthur had stayed up with me outside of the cell. That eight-year old apologized profusely the entire night." Morgana shrugged as a soft smile formed on her face once again. "Arthur was always a good man; he was just taught wrong."

"You are right, Merlin. This is my home. Uther may be wrong, but Arthur and Gwen are still my friends."

She sighed, before meeting Merlin's gaze. "I will trust them once more."

Merlin visibly sagged, breathing out in relief. Morgana continued. "I will believe in Camelot and Arthur – even his destiny." She paused, hesitating for a moment. "But I can never trust you again." And the pain returned to the blue eyes, as Merlin nodded.

"I understand," He said as he swallowed. The warlock pushed back his tears. It seemed he had burnt a bridge, and could never re-forge his relationship with the woman.

Morgana nodded slowly. "Merlin, I am warning you now. I will do more than be an innocent bystander. I will help my people - anyone with magic - if they are ever in trouble. I will do everything in my power to save them." She looked away. "And if you feel that I am doing wrong," Her voice fell as she tried to finish the sentence. "We may cross paths again. And I will not be so merciful."

Merlin nodded again, not saying anything more as he moved in the general direction of Gwen's home. He tried to smile at her. "We best be moving before Arthur wonders what happened."

The witch stared at him for a minute. "Yes," Morgana agreed, finally replying. And she took a step forward, before stopping.

A chilled breeze swept past her, and she found herself unable to move, even as she watched Merlin continue ahead of her. Her limbs seemed to freeze on her, and she felt a strong, evil presence. "Merlin," she choked out, just before she felt a hand close across her mouth, the bony fingers poking into her flesh.

Merlin turned around just in time, watching as the black sorcerer swept in, one hand encircling Morgana's hips, as the other pulled her face back. His cloak itself seemed to spread out like wings for a brief second, before enveloping both Morgana and himself.

"Morgana!" Merlin yelled and he tried to run forward. He was slammed back by a powerful gust of wind. The world's greatest warlock hit the wooden wall behind him, falling unconscious onto the dirt ground.

"Time to leave, milady," the sorcerer whispered softly as the winds around them picked up. He pulled her close to his form, hugging her tightly. Within seconds, the sorcerer vanished with Morgana, the only proof of his presence was Merlin's prone form on the deserted alley grounds.

[ **Merlin Merlin Merlin** ]

Arthur adjusted his leather jacket, clearing his throat as he nervously stood in front of Gwen's door. The prince of Camelot was _not_ afraid to knock on the wooden door of the home that belonged to his beloved.

He may be slightly afraid that his screw-up of a servant will probably find a way to legendarily mess up the one task assigned to him. That he was scared about. And it was a part of the reason why he sent Morgana with him. (The other part was because he had wanted the two love birds to have time for themselves, but hush. No one needs to know that.)

Arthur took a deep breath in, and rose his hand, quickly rapping his knuckles against the door.

And the door opened slowly. Arthur leaned against the door side, putting out the best manly smile he could.

And on the receiving end, was a shirtless Gwaine. "Wow, Princess," the brunette teased as he watched the flustered prince straighten himself quickly. "Looking sexy."

Arthur found himself quickly glancing around before inviting himself in, closing the door behind him. "What in the bloody hell are you doing here?" He hissed, narrowing his eyes at the drunkard's bare chest. "And what happened to your shirt?"

Gwaine grinned back naughtily. "Gwen got tired of you," he declared, before promptly being slapped with a cloth rag. Gwen glared back at him, annoyed. "Ow!" He yelled out loud, even as the beginnings of a laughter formed.

Arthur rolled his eyes, even though he found himself smiling. "You are banished from Camelot, Gwaine."

"Such a kind prince, you remind me this every time I enter this kingdom," Gwaine retorted, splaying himself on the wooden chair.

"Doesn't keep you away for some reason," Arthur muttered. He shook his head, before turning to his love, intending to snatch a quick kiss from her.

He stilled at the sight of another tan skinned man, sitting sullenly at the corner of the room. Arthur turned to Gwen questioningly. He only received a cold glare from the woman, so he moved forward, stretching his arm out politely.

"Hello, my friend," He welcomed, as he watched the other man take his arm and smile tentatively. "I am Arthur Pendragon – "

"The princess of Camelot," Gwaine interrupted, chortling at his own joke. Arthur merely sent an unamused glance towards the drunkard. The past couple of trips Gwaine had made to Camelot (despite being repeatedly told by the Prince himself), Arthur had learned to accustom himself to the rogue's attitude. And despite his uncouth manners, Arthur learned to treat the man as his friend.

By the time Arthur had returned to talk with the new man, he found a defensive glare being directed at him.

"You are the son of Uther Pendragon?" Elyan asked.

"Yes," Arthur nodded, keeping the smile but recognizing the hostility. Even Gwen felt herself inch towards her love, already knowing where this conversation would go. Arthur noticed this, but shrugged it off. "You haven't told me your name yet, my friend."

Elyan scoffed. "I would never stoop so low to be friends with the son of a murderer."

Gwaine tilted his face, as he perked up in his chair, curiously eyeing the two men. Arthur immediately schooled his face so that the anger would not show his anger. He would have pulled out his sword and challenged the man before him, if he hadn't left his trusted blade back in his chambers. "You speak treason," Arthur warned. "I will not tolerate anything said against the King."

"Treason, is it?" The other man asked, inching himself towards the prince. "Is it called treason in your land, if a tyrant kills an innocent man, and his son cannot voice his distaste against it?"

"Elyan!" Gwen finally chastised. And here Arthur took a step back, glancing at his girl.

"Elyan? As in your brother who left you four years ago?" Arthur asked. Gwen faced away, not intending to continue this conversation.

"That is I," Elyan confirmed. "And what brings his highness here? Are you attempting to finish what your father started? Are you here to harm my sister?"

"Harm your sister?" Arthur's eyes softened as he recognized what Elyan was referring to. Even to this day, the young prince blamed himself for the death of Tom. He had expressed his thoughts once to Gwen, and was surprised to find that she had readily forgave him long before he ever could. "I understand what you are feeling, Elyan, but believe me. I mean no harm to Guinevere."

"And I should trust the words of a Pendragon?" Elyan challenged.

"More than the words of a man who had abandoned his family," Arthur replied, not so much in anger as disappointment.

And Elyan burned up, humiliated. Without thinking he drew his sword, pointing it at the unarmed prince. Arthur didn't look fazed, meeting the gaze of the indignant man.

"Elyan!" Gwen cried. She moved in front of Arthur, shielding him from the point. At the confused gaze, she took a deep breath in. "I love him."

They were three simple words. Words that Arthur heard countless times, but never failed to make his heart flutter. Words that halted Elyan in his track, sending his sword clattering to the ground. Words that rose Gwaine's eyebrows in amusement, and he settled back in his chair.

"How?" Elyan whispered.

"Believe me, I ask that all the time," Gwaine disrupted the situation, diluting the seriousness with his quirky answer. Gwen moved away from her love. Arthur didn't respond, and moved towards the table, grabbing a chair to sit in. The three men stared awkwardly at each other for a couple more moments, but none talked. Gwen stood in the corner, eyeing all three of her uninvited guests.

Arthur cleared his throat for the umpteenth time in the day, turning his attention towards Gwaine. "What brought you to Camelot again?"

Gwaine shrugged. "I needed to warn Merlin about something. I brought two other men with me. Apparently one of them is also banished from Camelot."

Arthur rose his eyebrows. Trust a fugitive to bring more fugitives into his kingdom. And before Arthur could ask anymore, there was a soft knock from Gwen's door.

"Ah! Speak of the devils." Gwaine exclaimed, gesturing towards the door. Gwen moved to open the door, only stepping back when she realized it was Lancelot standing on the other side. Lancelot seemed to be somewhat out of breath, having run around the lower town with Percival for the past couple of minutes. As soon as he saw Gwen, he found himself hesitating, almost backing up into the giant man standing behind him.

"Lancelot!" She gasped.

"You know him?" Gwaine peeked in from the corner, still refusing to abandon his chair. "What a small world."

Arthur stood up immediately, walking towards the entrance. At the sight of the prince, Lancelot immediately gazed down at the floor. "Milord," he acknowledged.

Arthur studied the man before him before finally nodding. "Lancelot," he greeted. The other man nodded silently, but still entered the house with Percival following close behind him.

Percival and Lancleot stood near the door, while Arthur faced them both at the center of the room, standing close to the edge of the table. Elyan stood to the back left of Arthur, while Gwaine finally rose from his wooden throne at Arthur's right. Gwen stood next to the door, behind the circle of men.

Arthur faced the men, standing at the center. "You two," Arthur addressed Lancelot and Gwaine "Better have a good explanation."

[ **Merlin Merlin Merlin** ]

The water dripped from a tilted bucket on the side, the drops splashing onto the dirt ground. The morning breeze billowed in the deserted alley, causing the clothes hanging from the lines to flap.

 _The black sorcerer swept in._

The rays of the morning sun lit the earth, very little warmth in it's embrace.

 _His cloak itself seemed to spread out like wings for a brief second._

The dirt bit into his cheek, the smaller pebbles sticking to his skin. His hands grasped at the dirt even as he heard a voice screaming his name.

 _Merlin!_

There was an unheard "save me" resonating in the shrill cry.

And the blue eyes flashed open, as Merlin pushed himself to his knees. His vision was blurry, as he stumbled to his feet. His left hand grabbed the wooden walls for support, while his right reached up to his clutch his head in a vain attempt to stop the steady pounding.

Where was he? What was he doing here?

" _Merlin!" She choked out. Her black curls blending into a cloak that didn't belong to her._

"Morgana," Merlin gasped, his eyes widening as the memories of what happened crashed into his mind. The sorcerer was here, in the lower town.

The sorcerer took Morgana.

Fear gripped him, the cold bony fingers squeezed his heart, and he found himself gasping. His body perspired, a sheen layer of sweat moistening his raven hair. And another thought plowed its way through the jumbled mess in his head.

Arthur.

Was Arthur okay?

The one name was enough for Merlin to drag himself through the alley, gabbing onto any surface his gangly arms could find to support his weight.

Arthur.

[ **Merlin Merlin Merlin** ]

Arthur stared at the men before him. "You saw the black sorcerer?" The men (sans Elyan) nodded in response. "He said he was looking for Morgana?" Gwaine scrunched his face in a _not-quite_ gesture, as if wanting to contradict that statement. Lancelot and Percival didn't respond, but it seemed that the prince didn't really care for their answer. He seemed to be repeating the information because he couldn't quite digest it yet.

Merlin had warned him the previous night, and he had acted on his friend's words, doubling the security in hopes of avoiding any contact with this infamous "Black Sorcerer". But the majority of him simply dismissed the caution as paranoia.

Guinevere watched fearfully, already understanding the implications. If left on her own, she would have run out to check on both of her friends. Yet, part of her told her to remain by Arthur's side.

"And he claimed that he would kill my manservant?"

At the last question, Gwaine stood up. "Which is why we need to find Merlin now," the rogue insisted. It was one of those rare instances that the man stood with a serious face, devoid of any of his usual quirk and charm.

"I don't get it," Arthur said. "Why would anyone target Merlin?"

Lancelot shrugged. "Merlin has gone out of his way to save you, milord," he stated indifferently. "He has gathered more enemies than friends that way."

Arthur didn't respond. He could be oblivious at times, or just a jerk to his servant, but even he couldn't deny noticing how self-sacrificing his servant could be. "Right," the blonde nodded slowly. "We must inform this to my father –"

"Sir Leon has taken that task," Percival piped in from the back.

Arthur nodded nervously. "That's good. Then we must check on Morgana and Merlin." Arthur moved towards the back door. All the occupants in the room stood up to follow him. Even Elyan got up; he could see the fear and concern in his sister's eyes, and wanted nothing more than to relieve her of the tension.

"I've sent them through the back alley, so we can probably find them there –" Arthur began to explain. The Prince would have said more, except that when he opened the door, his manservant stumbled through.

The prince caught him before the raven-haired man could crash onto Gwen's floor. Everyone in the room moved forward, calling out to their dazed friend anxiously. Arthur looked at his servant, shocked.

Because Merlin looked like a mess.

He was panting, breathing hard, as he tried to steady himself, using Arthur as his anchor. He was sweating, his black hair sticking to his forehead that currently was dripping with the sticky red blood – the result of his latest interaction with the wall. His eyes darted over his environment, coming into focus at times, and zoning out at others. "Arthur," he gasped. "Ar…" he gulped uneasily.

"Merlin, I'm here," The prince acknowledged, patting the younger man's back as he held him close to his chest.

And Merlin grasped him, clutching onto him dearly. "You're fine," he whispered softly between his pants. The man shivered crazily, like leaf stuck to its branch during a storm.

Arthur nodded, and he silently signaled Gwen to get something for his servant – a glass of water, a blanket – anything. While he watched Gwen move away, he realized something was different; someone was missing from the room. "Merlin," he called out, shifting the man so that he faced him. "Merlin, where is Morgana?"

The prince of Camelot quickly found out that was the wrong question to ask, as Merlin's breathing grew stronger and faster. "Ar…thur," He wheezed out. His eyes seemed to droop as they glazed over with new wave of tears.

"Gone," he finally mustered out, after catching his breath.

"She's taken by him."

 **A/N: I do apologize for taking so long to update. Truly hectic schedule kept me busy. The next update probably won't happen until much later (probably sometime in August). I'm sorry for leaving you with such a cliff hanger, but the next chapter will be good, I promise!**

 **I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! Please leave your thoughts/comments/constructive criticism behind. I love reading whatever you have to say!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.**


	9. Chapter 8: My Friends

**Previously on** _ **With No Regrets:**_

" _Merlin," Arthur called out, shifting the man so that he faced him. "Merlin, where is Morgana?"_

 _The prince of Camelot quickly found out that was the wrong question to ask, as Merlin's breathing grew stronger and faster. "Ar…thur," He wheezed out. His eyes seemed to droop as they glazed over with new wave of tears._

" _Gone," he finally mustered out, after catching his breath._

" _She's taken by him."_

* * *

Cold. Damp.

The first sound that she heard was a steady dripping of water. As if it were counting time.

Morgana's eyelids fluttered open and she slowly lifted her head. Where was she?

It was dark, but even in the minimal light, it was easy to identify that she must be in some sort of a cave. Something smelled rotten, like the odor of a carcass half eaten by detritivores. Her face scrunched involuntarily and she tried to turn away from the stench.

She sat propped up against the musty walls, only her thin dress protecting her from the cold. She unconsciously wrapped her arms around herself, an attempt to keep herself warm – and stopped midway when she heard the sound of metal scratching against a stone surface.

She pulled her hands into her vision, finally identifying the source of the sound. That is if the cold manacles enclosed around her wrists and feet meant anything.

Something was dripping from her forehead, and she moved her hand to cover it. Her head wound had reopened, she realized. Morgana closed her eyes, allowing her head to fall onto the hard surface behind her.

How did she get here? She blinked as she tried to remember.

 _A chilled breeze swept past her in the narrow alley, and she found herself unable to move. Her limbs seemed to freeze on her, and she felt a strong, evil presence._

She was kidnapped!

Morgana's eyes widened at the realization, and she tried to straighten up. Perhaps she should gauge her surroundings, and plan an escape. " _Abricap benda_ ," she whispered as her eyes flashed gold. The shackles around her limbs seemed to flash gold, but instead of opening, they tightened around her. She gasped, more so in surprise than pain.

" _Abricap benda,"_ she tried again, slightly louder than before. Her eyes started to tear up, even as she tried to control her worry. She only knew few spells; after all, she didn't have a magical mentor like Merlin did. Her time with Morgause was limited mostly by her healing from a certain poison.

Another memory quickly flashed across her mind.

" _Merlin," she choked out, just before she felt a hand close across her mouth, the bony fingers poking into her flesh. Merlin turned around just in time, watching as the black sorcerer swept in._

Merlin knew she was missing! It was an inkling of hope before it was quickly dashed down by another memory: one where she lay in his arms, suffocating and dying because she trusted him.

And she would be damned if she were to even think that a betrayer like him would even remotely think of coming to her rescue. He probably thought it was good riddance. Would Arthur and Gwen know she was missing? Would they care to come?

Her breathing quickened. She needed to get out, even if no one else would come to the rescue. She needed to save herself.

Yet this dark, confined and musty environment was so oddly reminiscent of her time fighting the poison. It was making her head spin, and whatever little sanity she had managed to muster the past couple of months was quickly slipping away. " _Abricap benda,"_ She choked out, her voice breaking in her desperate attempt. _Someone, please help me!_ She screamed silently in her head.

"Looks like our lady of honor is awake," a voice announced. Morgana quickly turned to face the black sorcerer, standing to her side with a torch to illuminate the surroundings, yet not his hooded face.

He placed the torch in a holder off the back wall. Morgana craned her neck, observing her pursuer behind her to keep herself distracted from the panic attack threatening to take over. "Where are we?" Morgana asked, her voice wavering due to her previous panic.

"Tunnels below the castle," the sorcerer replied. "I had some business with a certain lizard here, so I figured I would bring you as well." He walked over to her, crouching in front of her so that his eyes met hers.

"Please don't mind the stench. Injured wilddeoren are prefect game for small pests." His eyes looked into hers meaningfully.

"There are wildderoren under the castle?" Morgana asked, surprised.

The sorcerer looked annoyed. "How do you suppose the Great Dragon lived under the castle?" At Morgana confused look, he continued. "I guess you didn't know there was a dragon chained under this citadel by Uther."

She shook her head. "If I knew there was such a powerful magical creature held prisoner, I would have freed it."

The sorcerer laughed. "You would have freed it? That's funny."

"Kilgharrah doesn't like you," he answered her questioning gaze succinctly. "But don't worry. I took care of the dragon. I also took care of Morgause for you. I didn't want any hindrances in my plans." He got up, moving out of the light before coming back with a clean cloth and a small vial.

"First things first, let's take care of that," he pointed towards her bleeding head wound. He tsked mockingly. "I must apologize, my teleportation magic can be rough on injuries." He moved towards her, even as she moved back, dragging her chains with her.

He paused momentarily before reaching out, his cold hands removing the previous bandage. He poured some liquid onto the clean cloth, before gently dabbing at her forehead. She hissed softly, but let him continue his ministrations.

"What are you doing?" She questioned, not quite sure why he would care if she was injured or not.

"What, have you never seen Gaius clean a wound?" He mocked. She rolled her eyes, leaning back again against the rough wall.

"Okay, I know what you're doing. I want to know why?"

The sorcerer stared at her for a minute before inexplicably chuckling. "You and Merlin are more alike than either of you would care to admit." He stifled his laughter, coughing into his fist in a poorly disguised attempt. He cupped his hands around her wound and closed his eyes as whispered. " _Ge Hailige._ "

Morgana gasped softly as she felt his magic rush through her. It was corrupted, black and murky and she recoiled back, disgusted. Yet, why was there a familiar feeling – as if she knew this magic?

His cold hands moved towards her chin, as he tilted her face towards the light. "Not bad," he congratulated himself. "I can still do some healing magic."

"You asked why?" The sorcerer asked, returning to their conversation. Morgana nodded curtly. "Because I intend to keep my tools in top shape. I can't use a damaged weapon against Emrys and expect to emerge as the victor."

"Besides, after last night's botched attempt, I wanted to speak with you." The black sorcerer got up, turning away from her to face the empty tunnel wall.

"Emrys gave you the blade, you know he has magic, you know all of his weaknesses. Yet, I don't see you making anymore attempts at his life?"

Morgana narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "How do you know all of this?"

"If I didn't know any better, I would have thought that you have _feelings_ developed towards your own murderer," the cloaked man taunted.

She didn't respond, turning away so that the other man couldn't see her blushing in the darkness. "You can't expect me to make multiple assassination attempts in less than half a day! Besides, Merlin is innocent. He didn't know any other way to save the kingdom. He regrets his actions…"

The sorcerer twirled around rapidly, his cloak swishing behind him. "You believe his petty words? The empty promises of an enemy to you and your kin?"

"Why, I should trust your words?" she challenged, yanking against the chains to close the gap between them. "Why should I believe anything you have to say?"

The sorcerer didn't back down, gazing into her intense green eyes. "You believed Morgause's words and were more than willing to turn your back against your family!" He grabbed at her cheeks with his right hand, pulling her closer. Despite the close proximity, Morgana still couldn't make out any of his facial features. "You believed a sister you met recently over the brother you grew up with."

He pushed her back, and she collided roughly against the wall. "You are just a fickle minded, immensely gullible witch." He taunted, relishing at the insulted glare he received in return. "See, you have the wrong impression. I'm not trying to convince you, stupid girl. I know I have you dancing in my palm of my hand."

"Look around you," he coaxed, splaying his arms to showcase his surroundings. "You are at my mercy. You are in no position to make demands."

"I ask for 'the death of Emrys'. If you are unwilling to do it, let me know," he smiled sweetly, even as his golden eyes threatened her.

"Of course, that would mean I have little use for you." He spread his arms out again, showing her his skinny frame wrapped in the same pitch black fabric as the cloak. "As you can see, I am a traveler." His eyes narrowed menacingly and Morgana felt herself cower back. "I don't keep unnecessary baggage around."

[ **Merlin Merlin Merlin** ]

Gwen gazed sadly at Merlin, even as she bandaged his head. The warlock had only stopped shivering moments before, but distraught still remained plastered across his face even as he stared at the door. "Did they come back?" He asked Gwen for the umpteenth time.

Gwen shook her head in denial. "They will be soon. Merlin, you said you fell unconscious. You need to rest until we can Gaius to check up on you."

"I'm fine," Merlin dismissed, lifting himself from the chair he was seated in. Nausea rolled over, and he tried to steady himself before Gwen anchored him. "Arthur can't go after him alone. He needs protection."

"And he has protection," Gwen reassured the worried servant. "In the form of four very brave men who traveled across lands just see their friends and family safe."

Merlin paused, somewhat convinced. And then he quickly shook his head. "It's not enough." He walked slowly, carefully making his way to the door even as he leaned on Gwen for support. Gwen allowed him to walk forward, before halting him halfway to his destination.

"He's a dangerous man, Gwen." The blue eyes looked into the honey colored ones, hoping to convey the importance of his presence next to Arthur's.

Gwen shook her head slowly. "You need to understand that you can take help when you need it, Merlin. You can't fight everything on your own."

"I don't fight everything on my own," Merlin replied, pulling back from her so that he can make it the rest of the way. "I take your help. And Gaius's."

"Merlin," She called, unamused at his snail-paced venture towards the main entrance. "Do you know what the difference between you and Arthur is?"

"He's a pompous rich brat, and I'm a lowly impolite servant?" Merlin looked up thoughtfully. "Oh, apparently, I talk a lot," He added as an afterthought.

Gwen shook her head, as she steered him back towards his chair. "True, but that's not what I mean." She sat him down. "He's not afraid to ask for help. He leans on all of us – you, Gaius, me, Morgana," Merlin visibly flinched, but Gwen ignored it and continued. "He has many secrets too, but he's not afraid to confide them with us."

Merlin looked away somewhat ashamed. "I do share my secrets with others, Gwen."

"Oh, I didn't mean you kept secrets," Gwen quickly corrected herself. "I was just talking about some of the good qualities Arthur had. Not that he only has some good qualities – but that wasn't the point –" She rambled before stopping herself. She took a deep breath in, composing herself before continuing. "It just seems like you're hiding something from us."

"Somethings are better left unsaid," He said softly. "It's best for everyone."

She crouched in front of him, laying her hand gently on his lap. "But is it good for you?" Merlin open his mouth, as if to answer, before the door suddenly opened.

Arthur and his rag-tag team returned, a despondent look on all their faces. Gwen looked up at her love, a silent question. "She's nowhere," Arthur replied, sadly. Merlin's face fell at that and he looked away.

"What should we do?" Lancelot asked. "Should we report to the King?"

Elyan nodded in the back. "It doesn't make sense for just the five us to search through kingdom. And if he has magic, he might have taken her further away."

"No," Arthur shook his head. "We can't tell Father. We had just found her." The five men slowly took their seats wherever they could.

Merlin closed his eyes sadly. He had just found Morgana, and she had just promised to trust Camelot, to help the innocent magic users – something he himself was guilty of never fulfilling. He opened his eyes, gazing around the room before settling on Arthur.

The Prince of Camelot sat at the head of the table, crouched over his knees. His blonde bangs hung over, casting a shadow over his eyes. He looked composed, a slight sadness etched into his features, but nothing too desperate. At least that's what Merlin thought until Arthur lifted his head to gaze back at the servant.

And the prince's eyes spoke volumes: a great sorrow of losing someone he grew up with, a sincere apology aimed towards his servant for failing to protect who he presumed to be his love, but, worst of all, a hopeless emptiness reflected in his glassy gaze. It was obvious that Arthur blamed himself for putting Merlin and Morgana in this position, and even more obvious that he associated Morgana's kidnap with his inability to protect those closest to him.

Arthur's eyes told Merlin he was breaking apart. And his self-proclaimed guardian, the secret warlock couldn't allow that.

But even more than just the bond with Arthur, Morgana did hold a special place in Merlin's heart. She was strong, confident, and powerful with a burning desire to protect everyone. The dragon was right: they were polar opposites – but lately it seemed to be more that she was light to his darkness.

And her final scream before being abducted by that vengeful sorcerer still resonated within his mind. Morgana held by the sorcerer as she called his name before she disappeared. Morgana held by _Merlin_ as she choked on the poison, her eyes beseeching to be saved.

She will never be helpless like that again. She will never be abandoned.

And if the stupid dragon is right and Morgana will be his greatest adversary, then damn it, he would much rather die in her hands than abandon her on false pretenses.

Merlin stood up again, this time with much more confidence. All occupants of Gwen's home looked up at their friend (although Gwen's glare was more disapproving). The servant paused, examining the room. "I can't leave her," Merlin realized even as he announced it. His cast his eyes down, almost guiltily. "I abandoned her once before, too much of a coward to fight back." The warlock screened the room, enunciating the next sentence with as much conviction as he could. "But I can't now – not when she went through so much, when she promised to trust me – us – once again." Arthur stood up, the fire within rekindled by Merlin's speech.

"You're right, Merlin," The Prince acknowledged. He nodded, reassuring his friend.

Lancelot stood up as well, looking between the two men. "But where do we start? We searched much of Lower Town."

"I'm going back to where I lost her." Lancelot wanted to object, and point out that they had passed through the back alleys multiple times, but Merlin continued. "I saw him take her there. I might find a clue or remember something there."

Lancelot looked towards Merlin, a silent communication between just the two of them. And the servant's intention was crystal clear: he would use his magic to find where Morgana was taken.

[ **Merlin Merlin Merlin** ]

"So, what is it, _Witch_?" He snarled, as he placed his arms back to his sides so that the cloak enveloped him once again. "Will you or will you not kill Merlin Emrys?" Morgana studied the sorcerer in front of her. His magic coiled off him, almost as if it wanted to escape. It was dark and murky, congesting the tunnel air. The man himself stood with such confidence; his stature, albeit slender, was sturdy. If she could see his face, she had no doubts that he was grinning like a madman. And she had no doubts on the validity of his threat.

She breathed in, calming herself to calculate her next move. She could stall time, maybe in hopes of her friends reaching her. "I don't understand," She started hesitantly. "Why do you need me to do your dirty work?"

"I told you far too many times before. I am providing you an opportunity to get your revenge," the sorcerer answered, exasperated.

"So you can do this yourself?" Morgana's face scrunched in confusion.

"If you're wondering about my capabilities, I am sure that my ability to teleport, to silence Morgause _and_ the Great Dragon, and to covertly keep track of your every movement should answer that question." The Black Sorcerer counted off.

The King's ward pulled herself together. "Yet, you seem adamant in having me kill Merlin." She pulled herself closer to him. "Almost as if you can't kill him. What's holding you back."

"This isn't going anywhere," he stated nonchalantly. "I'll take your answer to be 'no, I'm not going to kill him'." He rose his hand threateningly. "No more chances, sweetheart. Tell me where the dagger is, and I'll make your death painless."

Morgana smiled sweetly. "You need the dagger? Then you need me alive."

The sorcerer narrowed his eyes, and the fire from the torch reflected off his angry eyes. "You are testing my patience, witch," he warned.

She rose her eyebrows, amused that she finally had something over her pursuer. "What will you do? Kill me?"

"There are things far worse than death," he scoffed. His eyes darkened, almost as if he had that experience.

"Fine," She conceded. "I'll tell you where the dagger is. But I have a couple of demands in return."

"I thought we agreed that you are at my mercy."

"Only if you never want to see your precious blade again." Morgana bargained.

"What do you want?"

"Answers," she responded simply, tugging at her chains experimentally before addressing the man in front of her again. "Why do you call Merlin, Emrys?"

The sorcerer hesitated, glaring piercingly at the King's ward. "Because he's not just any sorcerer with magic. He's a warlock born with magic."

"He had this his whole life," Morgana asked, awed. She knew that fear, where she didn't know if those she trusted would protect her if they found out about her magic. It was only the past couple of years, but those feelings of fear, depression, and betrayal – they were suffocating, encompassing, distressing.

And Merlin had this his whole life.

The sorcerer nodded. "And that's not just it. He's Emrys." The sorcerer turned away, refusing to let the witch gauge his emotions. "He's immortal."

Morgana didn't respond, and simply stared back shocked.

"That's why I need that dagger," the madman finally admitted. "Nothing can kill him, but the dagger to his heart." He lifted his right hand, staring at it with a disgusted passion. "Not a simple scratch nor impalement though his hand." He laughed suddenly, turning around to face Morgana again before throwing his head back so that his hood almost fell off and his pointed nose peaked out. "I would love to stab him, push the blade into his chest so that his warm red blood pours out from the wound." He wiggled his fingers as if he could feel the liquid already. "His heart would beat its last, the muscle rubbing against the blade, and pushing it deeper in. His eyes would widen in fear and his blood would choke him."

"You want answers, stupid witch? What questions do you have?" He challenged. "Why do I want to kill Emrys? Where did I get that blade from? Where am I from? WHO AM I?" He bellowed.

"I will give you your answers. Emrys, the druid king, the supposed savior of magic-kind, was the sole reason for the death of everyone I loved." He cast his face down, and even Morgana could feel that sorrow that resonated off him - the pain that cast the man into insanity. "If it were painless, perhaps my hatred would be less. But his foolish desire to protect the one man who would see all magic destroyed, killing millions of innocent people. He deserves death."

"I waited, and begged for years. So many years, that I lost track. I'm not going to lie – I was distracted several times, I thought I may have found my happiness again, a new family. But the moment I thought it was mine, it would be ripped from my arms." He lifted his vacant arms to make his point. "His mistakes – his wrong decisions haunted me."

"He deserves death, Morgana," the sorcerer repeated, but this time it seemed more like he was begging. Morgana's eyes softened, understanding his loss. "So, I went back to the Lake of Avalon and even then, Lady of the Lake refused to help me – despite her death being caused by him. I ended up conspiring with the Sidhe, bargaining Emrys's life for my loved ones, and stole that blade without the Lady's approval." He stated, almost proudly.

"I would rather be damned than miss my one opportunity to save my family," He whispered, forlornly. His mood shifted quickly and the sorrow was replaced by anger. "I think that covers all of your questions, doesn't it?"

"No, wait, there's one more," He prowled towards her. "Who am I?"

"I am the Death God. And I'm here to pass sentence." He pounced at her, his vice-like hand clasping around her neck. Morgana choked, clawing at his surprisingly strong arm.

"Die, Witch," He gritted out even as his hand tightened.

Morgana felt herself grow dizzy, her hands still clutching his cloaked arm sleeve. Her eyes rolled to the back, and she felt herself slowly slip into unconsciousness.

A piercing pain rippled through her, and she felt her arms fall to the sides, as the Black Sorcerer lifted her. He stared up at her, thoroughly enjoying the slow and painful death he decided to condemn her to. She was vaguely aware of her surroundings – the torch light dimming in the corner of her eye, the rough tunnel walls poking through her thin garment, and multiple shadows falling on the opposite walls.

There were multiple shadows on the opposite wall.

Perhaps her dizziness and blurry vision was the reason why she saw so many shadows.

"STOP!" A voice screamed, and she felt herself collapse to the ground, coughing roughly. She took in deep breaths as her throat burned. And then she lifted her head.

Arthur stood protectively in front of her, Holding his sword out towards the sorcerer opposite to him. Four other men surrounded the sorcerer, also wielding swords.

And Merlin rushed towards Morgana, holding her as his worried eyes scanned her to make sure she was fine.

"Emrys," an amalgam of voices suddenly echoed through the tunnel, aimed at the secret servant. "Come to die!" The sorcerer leaped towards the warlock, his hand outstretched, before Arthur obstructed his path.

The prince swung his sword, even as his four friends closed in. And the sorcerer fought, throwing small fire balls at his opponents. Merlin helped Morgana up, leading her towards the opening as he kept a watchful eye on his friends.

Yet, the sorcerer seemed like he didn't want to hurt any of them besides Merlin. His spells were aimed at clearing a wide path to hit Emrys more so than play offense. He pushed back all five warriors with a strong gush of wind. And just for a brief moment, he succeeded in his goal – he saw his chance to attack his target. The logical part of his mind reminded him he needed the dagger. The insane part just wanted Merlin dead. So, without thinking he released the most dangerous spell he could.

And the warlock barely had time to react, simply staring as the fireball rushed at him.

"Merlin!" Arthur yelled, and then came in the middle. For a brief second, time froze. The fire would hit the prince at the center of his chest.

And Merlin didn't think.

" _Scildan_!" The Warlock roared, thrusting his hand forward. A golden shield formed around Arthur, blasting the Black Sorcerer onto the tunnel wall and dissipating the fire simultaneously. Merlin moved to stand in front of his friends, holding his hand out defensively.

"Don't you dare lay a finger on my friends!" Merlin bellowed towards the cloaked man struggling to his feet. The golden eyes studied the fury plastered on the warlock's face.

And then he laughed, throwing his head back as the noise resounded audibly through the tunnels. "I never intended to hurt anyone but you. Yet, you still do a brilliant job of hurting yourself!" He chuckled mockingly. "Let's see how the Pendragons decide to sentence you – beheading or burning!"

He pulled his cloak together and in a single twirl, he transported out of the tunnels. The force of his wind blew the flame of the torch out, leaving the bravest of Camelot in the dark.

Leaving Merlin in the dark.

* * *

 **A/N: I tried to get the black sorcerer to attack Morgana, then Merlin saves her, and Arthur goes for the last blow typa-thing. But these characters never listen to me.**

 **Also in my story, the dragon was never released. He's still stuck in the bottom of the castle.**

 **Sorry for the delay in updating. Incredibly busy schedule and I am out of country right now. I don't know if I can publish the next chapter anytime soon – I'm hoping to get the next chapter up well before November, but no promises.**

 **Meanwhile, you can stay preoccupied by leaving reviews :P**

 **Also, thank you to the 102 followers! And all the recent reviews! I'm gonna catch up on responding to all you sometime. Thank you for your continuous support.**


	10. Chapter 9: Revelations

Chapter 9: Revelations

 **Previously on** _ **With No Regrets:**_

" _I never intended to hurt anyone but you. Yet, you still do a brilliant job of hurting yourself!" He chuckled mockingly. "Let's see how the Pendragons decide to sentence you – beheading or burning!"_

 _He pulled his cloak together and in a single twirl, he transported out of the tunnels. The force of his wind blew the flame of the torch out, leaving the bravest of Camelot in the dark._

 _Leaving Merlin in the dark._

* * *

Merlin felt heat rise up his back, and dropped his head in shame. He closed his eyes, far too afraid to face his master, but waited in the silent darkness for the sentence he was sure Arthur would pass.

Yet, there was no sound coming from anyone in the dark tunnel.

He opened his eyes and sighed. " _Forbarne_ ," he whispered, forming a small fire dragon in his palm, before letting it fly. The flame-beast flapped it's wings as it made its way to the blown-out torch, breathing on it so that it lit the place, before disappearing.

And Arthur stood in front of him, his sword lowered, his expression stoic. Lancelot and Gwaine stood to the side, Percival and Elyan behind them. Except for Lancelot, shock was evident on the faces of the remaining three warriors. After all, it was common knowledge that Camelot condemned sorcery, so no one expected the prince's trusted manservant to be guilty of possessing magic.

Morgana was still on the ground behind Merlin. She was on her knees, her arms shaking even as they supported her upper body. She wanted to get up, and stand next to Merlin, but she found herself deprived of energy after her encounter with the Black sorcerer.

Merlin looked up to bravely meet Arthur's gaze. He took in a deep breath and decided to start slowly. If Arthur wasn't yelling bloody hell at him, that must mean something, right? "Arthur…"

And the stoic face cracked, replaced by a mask of pure fury. Arthur dropped his sword, and closed the gap between his servant with two quick strides before grabbing him by his infamous neckerchief. The prince pushed his servant back so that Merlin collided roughly with the tunnel wall.

Merlin groaned, squirming slightly under Arthur's hold, but didn't make any move to protect himself.

"Sorcerer!" Arthur spat, his face mere inches away from his once friend. Merlin grabbed at Arthur's hands, holding onto them as he gazed into the furious eyes.

"Merlin!" Morgana called, as she saw her brother pin the servant to the wall. Even Gwaine moved forward, before being stopped by Lancelot.

"Betrayer," Arthur added, a bit more softly, completely ignoring the other occupants of the tunnel. The warlock studied his master's face. Arthur was furious, but there was pain, a deep sorrow at his most trusted confidant's betrayal. Merlin looked down, ashamed.

Arthur pulled Merlin forward before slamming him back against the wall. The servant's back arched slightly as he groaned again, trying to ignore the stars that currently danced around his head.

"Give me one reason," Arthur gritted out angrily. "One reason why I shouldn't run you through now."

Merlin didn't say anything for a couple of minutes, as he looked into the cerulean eyes. And in front of the raw pain, Merlin found himself speechless. Everything he had practiced – all of the speeches about how magic was good, how he used it to protect Arthur – all of it seemed insignificant. His shoulders drooped down as he let go of his grip on his friend.

Because Merlin understood immediately. The question wasn't magic. The question was trust.

"I – " Merlin licked his lips nervously before looking at the sword a couple of feet from both of them. His eyebrows knitted together painfully and he looked away. "I don't have one."

Arthur let go of the cloth scrunched under his grip and took a step back, studying the man who dared to once call himself his friend. The servant still stood against the wall, his shoulders drooped in defeat, his face downcast in shame. Arthur shook his head, even as tears threatened to fall. He moved back to pick up his sword before returning to Merlin.

And to say that the servant's heart beat didn't speed up as he saw his fried approach him to execute him would be a lie.

"Camelot condemns sorcery," the prince recited, repeating his father's words. He lifted his sword so that the sharp point rested over Merlin's heart.

Gwaine and Lancelot moved forward now, both men unwilling to see their friend injured or worse. Merlin saw that from his peripheral vision and shook his head, discouraging their advance.

If Merlin was going to die today, then it will be just him. Arthur will still have the best protection he could offer in the form of his friends.

Arthur wasn't oblivious to this, but chose to ignore it. "I'm doing you a favor," Arthur said, almost despondently. "If my father finds out, you will be burned in the courtyard. The past years of false friendship is what's granting you this small mercy."

Merlin gulped as he looked at the blade, and then the resolution in his friend's eyes. "Our friendship wasn't false, Arthur."

The sword poked into his chest, and Arthur glared. "Don't call me by my name. And I have nothing else to hear."

Morgana tried to push herself off the ground, to run to Merlin's aid, but found herself still too weak to move. "Arthur, please!" She addressed the prince, only to be ignored completely.

Merlin's eyes broke as he looked at his master. He nodded slowly, accepting the execution sentence and closed his eyes.

Arthur pulled back the sword, even as he heard the other's yell out their dismay.

And weirdly, staring at the servant standing against the tunnel wall in the dim light, with his matted raven hair, and the same blue shirt and red neckerchief sparked a series of memories.

 _Merlin in the market, fighting off the prat of a prince Arthur was with a mace._

 _Merlin pulling Arthur out of the dagger's way, saving his life._

 _Merlin on the training grounds, standing as the dummy that received much of Arthur's wrath._

 _Merlin following Arthur into every dangerous mission, risking his life to keep Arthur safe._

 _Merlin dosing off during important meetings, and then smiling impishly when asked._

 _Merlin making his bed, cleaning his armor, mucking the stables._

 _Merlin with his words of wisdom, never failing to guide and advise Arthur._

 _Merlin drinking poison for Arthur. Merlin dying for Arthur._

If there was one thing Merlin couldn't lie about, it was his loyalty to the crown. And no matter what his eyes showed him, Arthur couldn't deny that in his heart. The sword clattered to the ground from his hands, refusing to hurt the man who did so much. The rage, on the other hand, didn't leave his eyes.

"Merlin of Elador, I hereby banish you from Camelot on the pain of death." Merlin's eyes fluttered open, shocked from the sudden change in decision. "No one in Camelot will know you possess magic, but if I see you here again, I personally will not hesitate to run you through or turn you in," Arthur warned. He quickly turned away, blinking back tears as he walked away. Banished or killed, the prince still lost a dear friend today.

Merlin shook his head quickly, even as he watched his prince leave. "I'm not leaving."

Arthur turned around angrily. "I am giving you a chance to live. Stop being an idiot and take it."

"No," the servant replied stubbornly.

"Then you will be taken into custody and burned at stake by dawn tomorrow." Arthur countered.

"So be it." Merlin stared at his master intently. "I'm not leaving your side, unless it is death that claims me."

Arthur studied his friend, that intensity in his eyes. He wanted to keep quiet, maybe offer an alternative. But upholding the law as the Prince Reagent of Camelot was priority. The prince shook his head. "You have till tomorrow morning. If I see you in this Kingdom, you will be sentenced to death." So saying, the prince walked towards Morgana, helping her up to her feet before walking her down the tunnel to the exit.

Morgana twisted around, watching Merlin one last time as her foster brother dragged her out. She wanted to call out, to reassure him, but found herself unable to. Merlin fell to his knees, sadly gazing after his master.

The tears that had previously threatened to spill over, flowed freely now that his master was gone, and he no longer need to act strong. The rag-tag team of the future knights surrounded Merlin, Lancelot and Gwaine helping him up to his feet.

"It's okay, mate," Gwaine said softly at the despondent look in Merlin's eyes. "I know some mighty good taverns outside of Camelot. We can go there."

Lancelot nodded. "It's alright. Arthur will understand soon."

"Besides, we're banned from Camelot." Gwaine gestured towards himself and Lancelot. "You don't see that stopping us," Gwaine joked. Merlin smiled through his tears, happy to know he had friends who would still support him.

[ **Merlin Merlin Merlin** ]

"Arthur," Morgana called for the millionth time. The prince refused to turn, dragging Uther's ward through the castle halls. "Arthur, you have to listen to me."

The prince spun around, pushing the injured witch to the side, as he stood in front of her. "What should I listen to? That Merlin is a good man, despite what I saw? If anyone should hate magic, it should be you, Morgana. You were abducted twice by those people!" Arthur nearly shouted.

The few servants walking in the hall turned around nervously, not quite knowing if they were intruding in on a private conversation. Morgana straightened herself, before pulling her arm out of Arthur's grip. She looked around, noticing the few nervous citizens that littered the hall.

She took a deep breath in, and then met Arthur's gaze. "Follow me," she ordered softly, before walking down the hall to the closest chambers: Arthur's.

She didn't anticipate her foster brother to follow, but was pleasantly surprised to see that he did sullenly walk behind her, almost reminiscent of their childhood days. She quickly opened the chamber doors and slipped in, Arthur following close behind.

When she was sure that the prince had closed the door behind himself, she turned to face him. "Tell me one thing, Arthur. Are you angry at Merlin for having magic, or for not telling you?"

Arthur sighed, and decided to take a seat at the foot of his bed. "He betrayed me, Morgana. By practicing sorcery and by keeping secrets from me."

"Would you actually blame him for hiding it in the first place? You were about to execute him mere minutes before," Morgana insisted.

"Then he shouldn't be in Camelot in the first place. And he shouldn't practice magic in this Kingdom. He knows its punishable by death. Many lost their lives for being _suspected_ of magic." Arthur stood up, raged once again. "What purpose does he have here, other than to attempt to assassinate me or Father?"

"Merlin?" Morgana scoffed. "Merlin would never harm you, Arthur. He wouldn't let anyone touch Uther because he knows how much it would hurt you if you lost your father."

Arthur shook his head, turning away from his foster sister. "That's what I thought too. But he lied. What's to say he hasn't been waiting for his turn?"

"Arthur, Merlin believes in you and Camelot." Arthur looked up hopefully, strongly desiring to believe in his childhood friend, but the Uther side of him still refused to cave in.

"How would you know, Morgana?" He lifted his hand to comb through his blonde hair.

"Because Merlin is the reason why the Camelot still stands strong," The witch replied immediately and without hesitation. She sighed softly. "His love for you, Gwen, every citizen in Camelot is what keeps him going." And then she stopped, halted by her words as a new thought revealed itself to her. Arthur looked up to meet the emerald green eyes currently widening in realization. "I always knew that."

"What?" Arthur asked curiously.

"I always knew that he loved me," Morgana almost whispered. Her memories shifted to years ago, when she first felt Merlin's presence.

 _It was hours before the main banquet, where Arthur would be attacked, and Merlin would be hired in as the new manservant. She was undressing and needed help, and had thought she heard Guinevere walk in._

 _She didn't know then, and didn't realize it till now, but the person who hummed in a high falsetto in response to her request wasn't Gwen. She felt the presence was different, a different aura. She didn't know then, that was his magic calling to hers. They were opposites, by birth. And by fate, were inevitably attracted to each other._

 _The sheepish grin when she asked if Guinevere was the one who put the small flowers in his neckerchief. She was jealous that her maidservant beat her to the game, and the playful smile she received in return told her quite clearly that he knew._

 _She didn't know then that this was love._

 _The awed gape that he graced her with when she walked into any banquet or feast with a new dress. Those brilliant blue eyes praised her stunning beauty, and she found herself thrilled. No one would know, she told herself. No one would know that she had started trying new fashions to please this manservant._

 _She stood next to him in Elador, donning a thin chainmail and sword, ready to fight to protect Merlin's village. And she still remembered the gratitude that Merlin's eyes showed, the admiration for her courage._

 _Those eyes showed her so much, showered her with an unconditional love. And she never knew, but she had returned that same gaze to him._

 _Which was why she never saw the raw pain in those eyes when he held her as she choked on the poison. Because her vision was blurred with anger and confusion._

"Morgana," Arthur called, pulling her out of her thoughts. The prince gazed at her, a little worried and confused. Morgana looked down hesitantly, before deciding to continue. "Yet, despite his love for me, he went as far as to poison me to keep Camelot and you safe."

"He poisoned you?" Arthur repeated, almost in daze and denial.

Morgana looked up, studying the wide range of emotions that flickered across Arthur's face, the predominant of which was renewed anger. "No, Arthur," she denied immediately, and then continued explaining herself. "It was during the invasion. I didn't know then, but I was the vessel. I had agreed to help Morgause, in hopes of freedom and helping the innocent. I didn't know the consequences. And Merlin didn't have a choice." She had never thought that she would be the one defending Merlin, given how blinding her resentment she had fostered for a year had been.

But ever since she met the Black Sorcerer, things turned different. It was like she was deviating from her set path, and starting to think for herself.

"You were helping Morgause?" Arthur asked, slowly standing up on his feet. His eyebrows scrunched in confusion. "I don't get this, Morgana. Why would you help your abductor?"

Morgana sighed as she lifted her hand. "Because Morgause is my sister," she whispered softly. Her palm lit on fire just as her eyes turned gold and she whispered the spell in the ancient tongue. "Because I also have magic. Merlin and I were born with it."

Arthur staggered back, astonished as his eyes stared at the fire in her hand. He tried to grab the bed post to anchor him, but continued to slip down until he hit the hard, tiled floor.

Morgana watched, even as she felt herself break at Arthur's reaction. "Arthur, you can't condemn Merlin without condemning me in the process. You can't pass an unfair, biased judgement on any magic-user without doing the same for me and Merlin."

She moved forward, taking a single step towards the man she had grown up with. And Arthur scooted back instantly, almost as if he were afraid. It pained her to see her brother so afraid and so betrayed, but Morgana understood. So, she moved back instead, towards the door.

"I will be at the feast tonight," she promised, turning around to leave. "If you can't forgive Merlin, then do your worst. I'm not like Merlin to surrender to you. I will fight for what is right." She turned her head slightly towards the shocked prince. "You do what you believe is right. All I ask – all Merlin would ask for is that you think before you act." She placed her pale hand on the door handle.

"You too, Morgana?" Arthur whispered behind her, still dazed and staring into space. Morgana didn't answer, opting to open the door and leave the chambers instead, even as she felt a tear slip past her and drip onto her cheek.

[ **Merlin Merlin Merlin** ]

Night slowly settled into the Kingdom, and the castle came to life. It would be a magnificent feast, for the lady of Camelot, Lady Morgana, was back in the kingdom, safe and sound. Of course, this called for a celebration. Yet, at the head table, the only person grinning widely like a fool was Uther Pendragon, as he lifted his goblet and gave his small speech.

Arthur sat to the right of Uther, occasionally sending Morgana a glare or two, but not doing anything else. There was a lot that went through the prince's head after Morgana had revealed herself to him. And in the process of organizing those thoughts, the young prince may have destroyed his room, smashing any object he could find onto his floor and dragging the curtains down to the ground with him.

It took him several hours of introspective speculation (involving the aforementioned destruction of his chambers), but he did come to the conclusion that he believed that both Morgana and Merlin were still good. What he also found out was that he didn't trust they would stay good. Or in any matter, in general.

Morgana sat down at the left of Uther, giving her plastic smile to the noble crowd and very much aware of Arthur's glares.

"Arthur, I see that your manservant is missing," Uther stated, turning to Arthur.

The prince cleared his throat. "Yes." he looked at Morgana, intently. _Arthur, you can't condemn Merlin without condemning me in the process._ She was right, he thought. And he couldn't bring himself to condemn Merlin or Morgana.

"I allowed him to temporarily visit his mother in Elador." And Morgana found herself smiling, her eyes softening in gratitude and appreciation.

Arthur returned the smile, accepting the gratitude, even as his eyes remained hard. It would take a little more from both the secret magic-users to gain the same level of trust and regard the prince had held for them, but it seemed Arthur still had a little bit of trust left.

And it was at that moment, the great hall doors burst open. The knights rose to their feet immediately, unsheathing their swords.

"Surprise!" The Black Sorcerer greeted the royalty at the head. He sauntered into the center of the hall, the sharp click of his boots the only noise that resounded across the hall.

"Sorcerer!" Uther yelled.

"Stating the obvious aren't we, Uther?" The sorcerer asked, tilting his hooded head. "I never understood how you ran this kingdom as long as you did with that brain of yours."

Uther turned bright red, and before he could respond, Arthur warned the man. "You will not speak to the King that way."

"Don't see me stopping," the sorcerer joked. A brave knight tried to sneak up behind him, holding his sword out with the intent to strike a killing blow. The sorcerer didn't turn as he held out his hand, blasting the poor newbie into the pillars behind the tables. The knight hit the pillar hard, leaving a red smear on the stone as he slipped onto the ground. "Ah, poor soul. I implore everyone present not to interfere." He gazed intently at Morgana. "We don't need anymore than necessary dying today."

He turned towards the witch, and Morgana could feel his slimy grin despite not being able to see it. "Missed me, darling?"

"Not quite," she responded, sardonically. She felt her magic clawing at her, telling her to release it, to let it defend her.

Because she knew that this time, the sorcerer didn't come to talk. He came to kill.

[ **Merlin Merlin Merlin** ]

Merlin sniffed softly as he placed his folded red tunic in his bag. Lancelot sat at Merlin's bed, sending occasional sympathetic glances at the fired servant. Percival sat beside him, silently observing the room.

Gwaine sat at the table, his legs splayed on the table as he rocked in the old wooden chair. His eyes were closed, as if he were napping

"You can't be thinking of leaving." A voice suddenly interrupted. Gaius stood at the chamber doors, shocked to see so many in his chambers when there was a feast happening at the banquet hall. He himself had been late with his rounds, and had hurried to his chambers in hopes of ridding himself of his medicine bag before running to the great hall.

And the sight that greeted him was his ward packing his bag as two banished men and a giant spread out across the chamber. Merlin turned to see his guardian stand at the front of his room, a bit shocked but also glad.

Gwaine didn't get up from his position, his eyes still closed and responded to the physician. "Arthur found out he has magic," the drunk knight stated nonchalantly.

Gaius gaped, looking at each occupant's face before turning to Merlin. "They know too?" Merlin nodded. "So, you're leaving Camelot? Who will protect Arthur?"

"I can't protect Arthur if I'm dead, Gaius." Merlin turned away sadly. "Arthur only gave me time till morning."

"You can't protect him from far away either. Did you try talking to him?" the old physician insisted, removing his medicine bag before walking towards the warlock.

Merlin shook his head. "He didn't want to hear anything I said." He turned to sit down at the foot of his bed, just as Lancelot placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "I did betray him, after all."

Gaius looked at his despondent apprentice. "Oh, my boy," he sympathized, moving to embrace his ward lovingly one last time before he let him go into the world beyond Camelot.

Merlin suddenly clutched his head, screaming out loud. _MERLIN!_ Morgana was screaming. _Help!_ "Morgana," He muttered painfully. "Arthur – they're in trouble!" And the warlock shot to his feet, racing out of the chambers and pushing his mentor aside.

His friends called behind him, and the future knights ran after him. Still the manservant didn't slow down, racing at top speeds until he got to the great hall, the door currently wide open, unveiling the events that transpired before Merlin's arrival.

Because at the center of the hall stood Camelot's greatest threat and this feast's uninvited guest. His right hand was stretched out towards Morgana, who was currently withering in pain. His left hand held everyone else at bay.

The hood turned around to see Merlin skid to a stop in front of him, his eyes narrowing menacingly. "Thank you darling, you've been quite helpful," he implied towards the witch as he let her go. Morgana fell to the ground, panting as she lifted her head to watch.

"What do you want?" Merlin demanded as he walked towards the sorcerer. Both men started to circle each other, until Merlin stood protectively in front of the royal table.

"Why, your life, of course!" The sorcerer replied jovially. "I thought I made myself abundantly clear." Lancelot, Gwaine and Percival made it to the hall just at that time, but the sorcerer seemed far too happy to have his target in front of him to notice the newcomers.

"What have I done to wrong you?" Merlin asked, intending to keep the sorcerer preoccupied as his friends slowly snuck up on him from behind.

The mad man's eyes narrowed. "You don't need to know." His eyes turned golden, blocking off the three rogues, and pushing them far with his murky shield. "But I know you, _Mer_ lin Emrys. And I know what causes you the most pain." He suddenly turned to face Arthur. "Let's see what lengths you would go to protect your King!" He laughed maniacally as he thrust his hand forward.

And Merlin didn't think, pushing both of hands in front of him as he conjured the strongest shield he could, pushing back against the Black Sorcerer's magic with so much force that the mad man himself felt the impact.

And the hood fell, revealing the perpetrator's face to the crowd. Merlin's hands fell to his sides, his eyes widening in shock. The occupants of the hall were just as much shocked as their protector, their eyes shifting between the two men.

The murky shields slowly disappeared, as the sorcerer panted hard, his right hand clutching his heart. Despite the evil grin that encompassed half of his scarred face, haggard beard that meshed with his shoulder length black hair and the evil glint in his golden eyes, the sorcerer's identity was unmistakable.

Merlin stared shocked at Merlin.

 **A/N: And for those who saw that coming, kudos to you! I think this story has 2-3 more chapters to go before it finishes.**

 **I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please leave a review behind!**

 **Special thanks again to all of my followers and reviewers! Your reviews are what keep me going.**


	11. Chapter 10: Standstill

Chapter 10: Standstill

 **Previously on** _ **With No Regrets:**_

 _And the hood fell, revealing the perpetrator's face to the crowd._

 _Despite the smirk that encompassed half of his scarred face, haggard beard that meshed with his shoulder length black hair and the evil glint in his golden eyes, the sorcerer's identity was unmistakable._

 _Merlin stared shocked at Merlin._

* * *

The hall was frozen, like someone had stopped time. No one moved – no one even dared to breathe. The raw power of Merlin's last spell had cast a cold breeze, blowing out the candles on its way out of the castle and leaving the occupants in a blue-tinged hall. And at the center of the darkened hall, the two identical men faced each other, like mirror images. Almost like mirror images, except for the mirror was convoluted, shattered and destroyed.

The bearded man rose his hand up, his fingers twirling around the crystalline condensate currently floating from the high ceiling. His lips curled into a genuine smile, the first of which he had in years.

Thousands and thousands of years.

What a magical moment indeed. The wizard's eyes softened, a soft glow reflecting in those electric blue eyes that were the permanent residence of sorrow. He lifted his head, tearing his gaze from his palm to focus on the occupants surrounding him.

It was such a beautiful image, perfection really, if the fish-faced Uther Pendragon was ignored. Arthur stood to the Uther's side, his face scrunched in concern for his exposed servant. The slim crown was tilted slightly on the golden hair, as the red cloak flowed behind. His King looked just as magnificent as ever.

To his left stood the witch, Morgana. The older man smiled, as he peered into her emerald eyes to find no traces of the anger and malignance that had become a commonplace since the betrayal.

Even the knights that surrounded him, with protection sparking within their eyes brought back nostalgia, dear memories of the laughter they shared.

"Stop, time," he whispered. What wishfully thinking, hoping his request would be heard. "Thou art beautiful."

And perhaps his luck was truly shattered, because those precious seconds, that soothed his emotional scars like a healing balm, unfroze the moment he uttered those words and the world around him swirled into action. Servants rushed into the hall, carrying in candles to light up the hall once more.

He sighed sadly, letting his hand fall to his side as he turned to face the wrath of the King. What he saw was the pathetic excuse for a human being (he was thinking about Uther, of course), still gaping at the two men.

The younger one collapsed to his knees – whether from the shock, or simply from over exertion of power, the older one couldn't tell.

There was something so satisfying about defeating his younger self, Merlin realized. No wonders so many attacked Camelot in his prime days – his mere presence irked the older man more than he would care to admit.

Blue met blue, and the Sorcerer held the gaze. So many unanswered questions, and forever unanswered they shall remain. Considering the death sentence at the tip of Uther's tongue, it wasn't too much of an exaggeration.

Yet no noise managed to escape from the King's throat. The very man that condemned thousands of magical beings to death now struggled to simply find words.

The black sorcerer sighed. "Uther," he whispered conspiratorially, prompting the despot King to focus his attention on him. "You're supposed to call the guards now," he hinted, his voice laced with mockery.

At least the King had the decency to feel ashamed, turning beet red as he shouted for the guards. "Arrest both sorcerers," he commanded, pointing towards them. "For their crimes, they shall be burnt at stake by dawn tomorrow."

And that sentence spurred the crown Prince into action. "Father, that is my manservant," he pointed towards the younger one currently being dragged to his feet by the guards.

"And he practiced magic," Uther retorted back.

"This could be an illusion," Arthur argued, desperate to save his friend. He didn't quite know what was going on, but if he didn't talk, he knew Merlin would die. _His_ Merlin would die. "An illusion cast by an intruder," he glared at the black sorcerer. Uther listened, for a change. Considering the turn of events, it did seem logical that the servant had been framed (although it seemed completely loony that anyone would go through the trouble to frame a servant).

"Father, let us give them a trial," Arthur requested. "Merlin saved my life countless times. I find it hard to believe that someone _you_ chose as my servant can stoop low enough to practice magic." He quickly glanced at his friend. "I will bring the evidence he is innocent." There was a promise in his words, and something deeper, something he didn't know he held for the raven-haired young man.

Uther considered his son's words, listening carefully. He regarded the young servant in front of him. It was an infinity of silence, but Uther finally conceded, nodding softly. "We will conduct a trial then, Arthur. Bring your evidence." And the prejudiced King turned around, his purple cloak bellowing behind him as he intended to leave, a finality to his decision.

"And since when did Camelot get so lenient?" The husky voice interrupted. Arthur swiveled around, angry to see the haggard man, currently in the guards' grasp. The sorcerer smiled back, apologetically. "I hadn't known the laws could be bent." There was a haughtiness to his taunt, and it practically begged consequences. And not good ones either.

"Do you want to die?" Gwaine demanded from behind him, beating the others to the question.

Older Merlin turned his head, so that the rogue could see the profile of his face. "No." Succinct and calm reply. "I just want to kill." His smile widened into a creepy grin, as his attention focused almost exclusively on his younger self.

"But it's nice to know that Camelot had weakened considerably since I was here last," Older Merlin joked. "A trial for two sorcerers caught in front of so many witnesses casting spells at the heart of Camelot! Wonderful indeed!"

Uther burned red once again, and he had half the mind not to stab the verbose man right here, right now. "I hate to admit," Uther gritted out, taking a deep breath to calm himself. Burning the magic-users in the courtyard had a greater audience than these pompous aristocrats surrounding him. It would teach the nearing druid villages a lesson as well. "But the sorcerer is correct.

There is no trial for sorcerers in Camelot." Arthur looked ready to argue, but Uther held up his hand, silencing the prince. "Both vile creatures will be ridded from this world at the first sunrise."

"Father!" Arthur cried, just as Morgana cried out as well. It didn't do much help. The verdict had been passed.

The younger Merlin visibly sagged in the guards' iron-gripped clasp.

The older one smiled, ultimate triumph radiating from his eyes. He was content, it seemed, his last wish fulfilled.

He would die, with no regrets.

The guards marched the two men towards the corridors, one pair leading the younger, while another followed close behind with the older. And just as the Merlins exited the hall, a maidservant rushed in, followed closely by her brother.

Guinevere Pendragon.

She gasped, instantaneously recognizing the bearded man. "Merlin," her whisper was barely heard as she reached out to him, her tanned hand almost touching his cheek. And he wanted to lean into her warmth, drink in the sight of her after so many years of absence.

But the stupid guards would have none of it, and pushed him forwards, leading him away from her. So instead, he chose to smile back towards her. "Don't worry, Gwen." He promised her, breaking his villainous visage. "Everything will be fine now."

Arthur and Morgana had run up to Gwen now, closely followed by the future knights. The huddled group looked after Merlin, confusion and fear written clearly across all their faces.

"What is going to happen now?" Morgana asked, rhetorically. There were so many questions, so much confusion. And their only answer was being led to its permanent silence, to death.

Arthur shook his head as he wrapped his arm around Gwen. "I don't know," the prince admitted. "I don't know."

 **[Merlin Merlin Merlin** ]

"Merlin has magic," Leon whispered, still recovering from shock.

"There were two Merlins," Gwaine complained to no one in particular, eyeing the goblet of wine situated at the corner of Arthur's table suspiciously.

"The Black Sorcerer is Merlin," Lancelot mused, as he felt his hands intertwine into his long curls.

Elyan and Percival just watched the three men gather their wits, each having lost them in their own worlds. Both were confused, of course, but given the situation, they weren't the only ones.

A rather large group had gathered in Arthur's chambers after the death sentence, and no one could decipher the previous incidents.

"Thank you for the summary," Morgana stated, sarcastically. She received several glares in return.

"I hardly believe them to be wrong, milady," Gaius replied. The old man sat at the other end of the table. The physician sighed. "I can hardly believe what transpired myself. And I have seen my ward in a series of complicated situations."

"Why did Merlin get himself arrested?" Gwen asked. The servant sat on Arthur's bed, watching her lover pace back and forth before her.

"Assuming the older man is Merlin," Arthur started, halting momentarily. His eyes widened comically, as if he discovered something.

"He is," Morgana confirmed, quickly dashing his hopes to the ground. "I recognize his magic. It's darker, and far more mature, but the signature is there."

"Then why is he doing this?" Arthur began to pace again, lost rapidly in his thoughts.

Morgana started to shrug, just as lost as everyone else in the room. Until she noticed all the eyes on her.

"You said he tried to get you to kill Merlin," Arthur pointed out.

"Yes," agreed Morgana.

"Why?"

"He said he wanted to give me to opportunity to take revenge. He also revealed a plethora of facts, even going so far as to say – " the emerald eyes glazed over. _Only this blade, forged in dragon's breath and coated in questing beast's blood, can kill him._

The silver-haired physician got up, stumbling towards the witch. "What did he say, Lady Morgana?"

"That nothing but a special blade could kill him. That he wouldn't die by the flames of a pyre." Morgana's voice was lowered into a whisper, just as Gaius staggered back.

"Oh, my dear boy."

Arthur held onto the older man, anchoring him. "What does that mean, Gaius? What does she mean?"

The physician cleared his throat, even as his eyes misted over. "Merlin…" Gaius started, glancing at the room's occupants. "Merlin has another name."

"Emrys," Morgana supplied. "He told me."

Gaius nodded. "Yes. And in druidic it means –"

"Immortal." It was Percival's voice that spoke up, interrupting the old man. "I heard of the tales of Emrys, the most powerful warlock to walk this earth."

"Merlin is immortal?" Gwen whispered. The gravity of the situation hit the audience like a brick wall, and they suddenly understood.

"Merlin must have traveled back in time." Morgana deduced. "He must have seen something wrong happen, and he's trying to fix it."

"And he somehow came to the conclusion that his death could fix this," Arthur concluded. He scoffed. "A convoluted suicide."

"Think on the bright side," Lancelot started. "Merlin can't die by the pyre tomorrow."

Morgana nodded. "He's right. I have the dagger. The sorcerer can't kill him without that blade."

Arthur nodded. "Give it to me then." At her questioning glance, he continued to talk. "We saw how powerful he is, and, Morgana, if there is one thing I can swear by, it's that Merlin would never hurt me. No matter what time he is from, no matter what place." His eyes darkened dangerously. "I'm the one best to safe keep the blade."

Morgana nodded as she stood up, walking towards the exit when –

"Where are you going?"

"I left the blade in my chambers." It was merely seconds after she said it that she realized her mistake. Gwaine swore. Arthur covered his face with his hand.

"Oh, god," Gwen gasped, horrified.

"We know exactly where that dagger is."

* * *

 **A/N: Not exactly where I wanted to stop this chapter, but this fit better than the place I had imagined. Also the last scene had 5 knights, Morgana, Gaius, Gwen and Arthur. This is probably the most number of people I ever put together in the scene, and honestly people felt left out. Maybe I might come back in the future and fix this chapter up a bit. Please let me know how I did.**

 **Next chapter won't be up for a long time. At the very best, end of February, and at the very worst, early May. I apologize ahead of time for that. On a happy note, I only have 2 more chapters to go :)**

 **Thank you so so much for all of the reviewers. You guys have been absolutely phenomenal and been the greatest encouragement for me.**


	12. Interlude: Everything Will be Fine

Interlude: Everything will be Fine

 **A/N: Warning: Drug abuse and some dark thoughts. Angst galore ahead! You have been cautioned. I don't think this chapter really needs to be read to continue with this story, so if you don't like these themes, please feel free to skip this chapter (hence called interlude).**

* * *

The shrill pitch of the tea kettle cut through the air, jerking a young man awake from the kitchen floor. Merlin reached back, massaging his sore muscles from the unusual position he had let himself fall asleep in.

 _What happened_? Merlin's groggy mind slowly caught up with him, as the young warlock gazed around the room. He stood at the center of a chaos, broken dishes spread across the kitchen floor. Even the counter tops weren't spared, covered with half burnt books and chemicals.

There was a steady sound, a soft whish that seemed to resonate louder and louder. The faucet to the sink was open. Merlin turned around, just as his eyes blurred, and he blinked several times – a vain attempt to clear.

That sound still persisted. Constant. Annoying.

And his eyes decided to go on a vacation. Brilliant. Merlin lifted his hand to clutch at his forehead as he closed his eyes, a searing pain suddenly ripping his brain into two. The warlock found himself staggering backwards, his hip colliding painfully with the granite kitchen top. He automatically reached back, steadying himself and blinking again. His pupils dilated and constricted, his breathing increasing as he felt a fine sheen of sweat cover his skin.

 _Where the hell was he?_

Panic. Full blown, and it seemed as if the world was closing in on him. The dimmed light that escaped into the kitchen through the thick curtains was blinding. Darkness was enticing.

"Merlin!" A voice interrupted, pulling Merlin out of his stupor and he focused on this new sound's source.

Arthur stared back at him, blocking his vision. His worried blue eyes surveyed the younger man, and the light source behind him seemed to illuminate his golden hair, forming a halo around his head.

"F***," Merlin swore as he pushed against what he presumed was Arthur's chest, only to brush against thin air. He slid onto the floor, pulling his knees closer to his chest as he curled into himself, burying his head into the small bony cavity he formed with his body. His anxiety blossomed into a full-blown panic attack, and Merlin found the air supply in his kitchen rather limiting. Or his lungs decided to stop working.

 _That's it_ , he told himself vaguely. _Focus on that. Which is it? Lungs or air?_

"Merlin," Arthur's voice rumbled into his thoughts. _Shit. Diversion wasn't working._ "Please…" The same voice with the same concern laced into it.

Merlin crossed his arms above his head, pushing it deeper into his knees even as he felt sick. "Shit, you aren't real. You're a hallucination."

"You aren't back. You're haunting me." It was almost like a mantra, therapeutic and relaxing. Or it would have been if imagination-Arthur hadn't decided to talk again.

"Please, Merlin. You have to stop this." Arthur's pleads almost forced Merlin to look up. But he couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to face his King. "You know what you're doing is wrong."

"Do I?" Merlin's muffled voice asked, even as the bony man started rocking back and forth. Damn, this wasn't helping. "How do you know?" Entertain the ghost? Or ignore the ghost? Not many options, honestly.

"Stop it, Merlin!" Arthur cried, and for a brief moment, Merlin thought he saw two strong hands curl around his sharp shoulders. And Merlin screamed, as if that touch would burn him, and scooted to the side. "You're killing yourself," Arthur insisted even as he tried to reach for him again.

"Leave!" Merlin cried out loud, tears escaping his eyes. There were so many sounds in his head right now. And the kitchen floor was wet. Blood red. It was bleeding. Or was Arthur bleeding from the chest?

Mordred's blade still left in the King of Camelot. A blade forged in dragon's fire. Aithusa's flame. His fault.

No, no, no. The floor was sharp, like he was sitting on knives. He was lying on the rocks of the crystal cave.

And Arthur was in his arms, dying, pale and cold. And _thanking him_?

 _Where the hell was he_?

"I killed you," Merlin whispered, not quite knowing who he was talking to. Was Arthur back? Had Arthur returned? His brain was jumbled. But it was solid, that metal armor that he had cast so many spells to make strong. To make Arthur invulnerable.

No, it was dented. A strong blade that struck through the metal and into the soft flesh. "I'm so sorry."

Hell. That's where he was. With Arthur as his punisher.

"I'm not your punishment, Merlin." It was reassurance, the last voice of reason. "I'm your conscious. Please listen to me. You're dying."

And Merlin started laughing, even as he felt tremors rack his body. He was going to be sick in moments, probably dry heaving onto the dirty floor in seconds if he didn't do something about this. "I'm dying." Another maniacal laugh. "Emrys is dying!" Merlin announced, almost triumphantly. "Can I die, please?"

Who was he asking?

What had he tried? _List it_ , a voice whispered. "Don't," Arthur retorted. "Please, just go out. Ask for help. Wait for me."

"I tired," Merlin said, shaking his head painfully. "Too bad. Too late. Too sorry." They were mumbles, but he didn't care.

A blade to his stomach. Vertically carving out all the veins in his wrists. Suffocation. Strangling. Choking. Drowning.

Even a gunshot to his head.

 _Why could he not join him?_

Broken. Dying.

But can never die.

"Merlin –"

"No," the warlock interrupted. "No." Merlin dragged himself onto his knees as his eyes flashed dangerously golden. "Leave!" he bellowed towards the ghost, his arm outstretched. It did little to expel the hallucination, although the spell wreaked havoc in the room, producing a gust of wind that toppled anything left standing.

Merlin nearly collapsed himself, steadying himself so that he rested mostly on his shaky arms, on all fours. He lifted his head, panting hard as he blinked again, clearing the clouding vision.

He scanned the mess on the ground, and even in his drug-addled state, he easily found his refuge.

Merlin practically crawled to his destination: the small corner tucked under the counter top that jutted out slightly. A single syringe, it's needle intact with a clear liquid.

The warlock didn't think. He didn't allow any more voices to speak. No more, but that single one that protested. "Merlin, you can't live like this. You have to come back to reality."

"Shut up," he muttered. He picked up the needle, and plunged it into his arm, no preparations, no aim. It must have hit the right vein.

Because he felt the world fall, as he delved into darkness, collapsing again onto the messy kitchen floor and into his drug-induced coma.

[ **Merlin Merlin Merlin** ]

Merlin stood next to window, gazing out from his lonely tower at the lower city. Night fell across Camelot, and the kingdom prepared itself for another ignorant slumber. Only her protector stood, wide awake and vigilant. The Court Sorcerer of Camelot.

Waiting for his King to return. And knowing that he was far too naïve if he believed his King would return after a couple of years of interlude.

"Merlin?" A gentle voice called from behind him. Queen Guinevere walked towards the warlock. She was adorned in a simple dress, a beautiful reflection of her simple mind, despite the noble status she now held. She smiled, gently. "Finding it hard to sleep?"

"Milady," Merlin greeted her, only to be returned with a heatless glare. He smiled. Pure and simple Gwen, still refusing to be addressed as the Queen she was. He turned to face the Kingdom again. "Camelot needs her protector," he stated.

"And what does her protector need?" Gwen asked softly, allowing her hand to rest on his shoulder.

Merlin felt his eyes glaze, and without really thinking answered her immediately. "Arthur."

The shadow of sorrow seemed to cast over Gwen, and she simply nodded, gulping down the painful sob that threatened to spill at sound of her late husband's name. "I know," she whispered. "I need him too. I understand."

Merlin shook his head. "No, Gwen." He hated saying this, not now, not after so many years. But he had to get it out. "You don't understand."

"Then explain it to me," Gwen insisted, curling her hand around her friend's clean-shaven cheek, and forcing him to look at her. Those blue eyes swirled with unshed tears.

"Arthur was my life's work, my destination, my purpose." The warlock started hesitantly before picking up speed. "I was born for him, Gwen. My magic, my life, my power, everything is for him."

He lifted his pale hand to stare at his palm. "I'm a broken soul without him. Incomplete and lost."

He let his eyes fall, observing the ground sadly. "Together, we were supposed to bring magic back to this land. We were supposed to bring a golden age and unite Albion."

Gwen studied the man in front of her, able to sympathize with the man, but found empathy perhaps a step too far. Even decked in rich velvet cloaks, and adorned as a noble (insistence from the Queen, of course), Gwen had never seen Merlin more miserable than without her husband.

She sighed. "You are right, of course. But we can still bring back the magic. We can still unite the lands."

Merlin turned away. "Not without Arthur."

"No, but in the spirit of Arthur," Gwen replied instantly.

"I don't know, Gwen," Merlin whispered. "Would he?" _Want all of this?_ The words never finished. They didn't have to.

"Of course." Again, the Queen of Camelot replied instantaneously and with the confidence and leadership Merlin had seen in few before her. One of those was Arthur.

"Sorrow is an endless loop. If we let it consume us, we can never move forward." Gwen moved closer to Merlin, attempting to talk with him. "That is why I have to make decisions, Merlin. To move forward and allow Camelot to thrive. As a grieving woman, my word means little to the council."

Merlin looked at her confused. "They respect you –"

"Undeniably," agreed Gwen. "But they need more." There was a flash of pain in her eyes. "They need an heir."

"What?" Merlin's eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

The Queen took a deep breath. "Merlin, I need your permission to wed Sir Leon, and allow Camelot to have a new King."

Merlin's eyes hardened. "No."

Gwen sighed resignedly, knowing this was coming. "Merlin, please. Listen to me –"

"Camelot has only one King, you have your husband: Arthur Pendragon. Anyone else on that throne or standing next to you is _betrayal_ ," Merlin hissed towards her, obviously angry and emphasizing the last word. It did its job, and Gwen flinched visibly. Merlin didn't feel any remorse, continuing his empty promises. "He will come back. And we will be ready for him."

"No, Merlin," she shook her head sadly. "I don't know when he would come back or even if –"

"– he will –"

"But this Kingdom has been deprived of her king for enough time." Her voice held a finality to it, a logical sense and confidence. Merlin stared at her, angry at the suggestion.

"Then this Kingdom will no longer have Merlin Emrys as her Court Sorcerer."

Gwen didn't say a word, even as her Carmel brown eyes teared up. She had hoped that her friend would listen to her, that he would choose to move on as well, but Merlin had made himself clear. Perhaps ridding him of the responsibilities would allow him to heal? Perhaps allowing him to return to Elador would allow the warlock to understand her? She nodded curtly as she made her way to the door. "So be it." The queen within her knew she was correct.

Yet, the maidservant within her felt the grief for Arthur's manservant. "Everything will be fine now, Merlin." Gwen promised him softly, even as she left him with conflicted emotions.

[ **Merlin Merlin Merlin** ]

Merlin was standing at the edge of the barren field. No crops to boast this year either. The warlock sighed heavily, as he crouched down on the field. His eyes glowed golden for a moment, but nothing happened.

It seems his magic was still not back.

After Hunith's death, Merlin had tried to busy himself toiling fields – the very job he had despised before entering Camelot. It took monumental effort, considering his physical stature, the lack of rains, and his refusal to even touch his magic.

He felt dried out, like the dirt in his hand. There was no more energy in the immortal man.

A sudden clopping of horses alerted the warlock, and he turned around quickly to observe a horse carrying an injured knight coming his way. And Merlin recognized him immediately.

"Percival!" Merlin cried as the giant knight slid off the horse, collapsing onto the hard dirt floor. Merlin ran to his side immediately, scanning the man and noticing a stab wound that bled freely from the side. Judging simply upon blood loss, it was a miracle that the larger man had survived this long.

"Merlin," the knight gasped, reaching out to his friend.

"I'm here," Merlin reassured him, adding pressure to the wound, eliciting a pained grunt from the larger man. "You'll be fine."

Percival gulped, knowing the warlock was lying. Those concerned eyes, with that hint of fear told him he was a dead man. "Merlin," he started again, and closed his eyes, allowing himself to muster up his last energy to grab at the servant's neck kerchief. "Camelot fell."

Merlin paled. "Gwen? Leon?"

Percival's face scrunched in sorrow. "Dead. Executed." Simple and succinct answer.

Rage replaced the fear in Merlin's eyes now. "Who?"

"Saxons." Percival took another deep breath, still clutching dearly to his friend. "Merlin, please." He gulped painfully, breathing in enough to call out to the warlock, one last time.

"Save Camelot!"

And with those last words, Percival died, his eyes still open and beseeching the warlock to save his kingdom.

Merlin screamed into the dreary day, his rage fueling the nature around him as a torrential rain poured on Elador, the first in many seasons.

And there was nothing Merlin could do, even as his anger affected the nature, his magic refused to work. The Saxons ravaged Camelot, leaving behind an empty Kingdom, and looting the once bright citadel of her people and riches.

Years passed, and Merlin watched as the world tear itself apart, destroying magic. He followed his people to the New World, he traveled to the east. He tried to keep himself distracted, to move on and find life after Arthur's death, after Camelot's fall.

But everyone he would love and trust would die in front of his eyes, bleeding in his arms. He realized rather quickly that his immortality was the curse he could never get himself rid of. His hope to see Arthur alive fueled him, but as the years fled, his hope turned to despair.

He had tried everything in hopes of distraction. Drugs, suicide, war. He tried to make the world a better place, and realized the world could care less. Magic became scarce. Technology became the revolution. And he became a fairy tale.

Slowly, the warlock realized that he needed to be back. Back to where everything started.

He found himself an older man, trudging up the road as he made his way to Avalon. His eyes reflected the last inkling of hope he had left, a desperate desire to strike a deal and perhaps bring his friends back to life.

[ **Merlin Merlin Merlin** ]

Freya sighed, gazing sadly at the image of the broken man begging at the shores of Avalon. Her savior, her love was destroying himself. And it was obvious, simply based on the storm that struck the lake relentlessly, that it wouldn't be long before Merlin started to destroy the world.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," She mumbled under her breath.

The Elder Sidhe next to her nodded, agreeing as he too observed the warlock. The man who was claimed by legends to be magic incarnate was reduced to a single broken and lonely man.

"What can we do, Milady?" He asked. "Avalon lives beyond human realm. We don't need to entertain him," the blue fairy gestured towards the figure.

"You would be right," Freya conceded. "But magic is dying in this new world, and it will be only a matter of time before the goddess will punish mankind and restore balance. No, we must do something before then." She turned to face the fairy, concern hidden in her hazel eyes. "I fear it would not end well if Merlin is chosen as the executioner."

The blue fairy gulped, just as another lightning struck the lake. "This would not have happened had Arthur and Merlin brought magic back to the land, as prophesized."

"What can we do now?" For a brief moment, she looked just as desperate as her love, watching him gather his cloak and leave the lake dejectedly.

The Sidhe studied his governess, wondering if he should continue. "Perhaps we can remedy this." At the questioning glance, the elder pulled out a blade from under his cloak. "Perhaps we could give him a chance."

It was merely a glance, but Freya understood immediately what that dagger was capable of. "Why do have a weapon like this?" There was obvious anger in her voice, but even worse, fear. For the safety of her love.

The Sidhe shrugged. "Emrys has done little to resolve his conflicts with us. And a good number of us wanted him dead for the damage he had done –"

"No," Freya dismissed instantly. "I want that blade destroyed, and whatever plans you have gone with it."

"But milady, this provides a loophole, an opportunity for magic to return."

"No, it provides Merlin with the means to kill himself. And how would that help us?" The Elder shrugged again, opening his mouth to speak, but was beaten to the game by his sovereign. "You cannot possibly be blaming Camelot's downfall on Merlin?"

"Then who else is at fault?"

"Mordred," Freya replied. "Morgana. Morgause. Agravaine. _Uther_. Even Arthur to some extent."

"And Merlin was meant to be the guide, the man who would lead Camelot back to Old Religion."

The lady of the lake turned away, disappointed by the argument. "Merlin's death would solve little."

"Yes," the elder agreed readily, prompting Freya to turn back. "His death would mean little. But perhaps we can shed light on why he failed. Perhaps we can give him a chance to realize his mistakes and fix them."

She studied the fairy, struggling to find words to counter. "And you believe that –" she pointed towards the blade. "– would help?" The elder nodded.

Freya felt her heartbeat increase rapidly. This would be the worst decision of her life. This would prove fatal to her savior.

Or this could possibly save Camelot and bring upon the golden age that was never observed. This could save Merlin. She slowly released the breath she hadn't even noticed she held, and nodded curtly, giving consent.

[ **Merlin Merlin Merlin** ]

"Mighty Sidhe!" Merlin roared, and yet the desperate pleading was evident in his call. "I beg you, please. Save my loved ones." He was back at the shores of Avalon again. Begging, as per usual. Yet the pain never lessened, despite the repetition. A small fairy flirted across the lake, and Merlin observed the creature make its way to him.

The Elder projected himself to his full form, the blue fairy's anger clearly evident in his face. "Why should we help you? We told you several times, you have nothing to offer."

"I offer you my life, please," he fell to his knees, his pale hands grabbing at the dirt underneath as his black cloak wrapped around him. "If my loved ones live just one more day, I will be content. I can die with no regrets." When the Sidhe didn't reply, he lifted his head. "I watched my family perish in front of my eyes, helpless to prevent their deaths." His voice cracked with unmasked agony. Arthur. Gwaine. Gaius. Gwen. All of Camelot.

"Your loved ones' deaths are not on our heads. Blame Camelot for your despair," the Sidhe replied, turning away just as he had in the previous encounters. "Blame yourself, and your mistakes."

"Please," the warlock begged. "I can't live like this. Please, I'm willing to do anything." The man bent over, placing his head on the ground, his unmasked sobs racking his body.

And those were the words that the Sidhe wanted to hear. He looked around the lake, as if making sure that no other were listening to their conversation. He needed to keep up false pretenses, make it seem like a secret that was to be shared. "Anything?"

Merlin looked up, a glimmer of hope rekindled in his weary eyes. "Anything," He promised instantly.

The Sidhe smirked and turned to face the man. "It won't be easy."

What could be harder than the hundreds of years of isolation? The tear stained face returned the gaze with determination. "I am willing."

"Then I ask for the life of Emrys," the Elder replied, to the utter shock of the cloaked man. "And I will bring every one of your loved back to life."

"The life of Emrys?" the broken man whispered back. "My life?" A wide grin broke his face. "Then take it now! I could care less for this –"

"No," The Sidhe contradicted instantly, annoyance in his eyes at how quick Merlin was to throw away his life. "You are a broken shell of Emrys, not the warlock in his prime. No, I want the life of the young warlock in disguise as the Prince Arthur's servant at Camelot."

Merlin stumbled to his feet.

"How would that be possible?" the man started hesitantly. The Sidhe nodded, just as the storm raging around them settled down. "How will I?" The Elder glanced briefly around the space once more. He reached into his ragged cloak, revealing a gleaming dagger. The hilt was crystal, black tendrils intertwined around the handle for a better grip. He handed the dagger to the cloaked man.

"The blade forged in the flames of the Great Dragon and tainted with the poisonous blood from the questing beast," The Sidhe explained as the other man observed the blade, cautiously turning the deadly weapon in his hand. "The hilt made from the crystals of Crystal Cave." The Elder smirked, a triumphant gaze in his eyes. "No mortal man can withstand a simple scratch from the blade. Imbed this blade into the heart of Emrys, and nothing can save his life."

The cloaked man broke his gaze from the blade, looking up at the Sidhe with surprise. "This blade was created for the death of Emrys." The silence was a simple confirmation of the statement. "My death."

"I will send you back in time," The Sidhe promised. "Any moment you would like to choose. Be warned: revealing yourself to your past can have –" he paused, seemingly searching for the right words. "Unexpected consequences."

Merlin didn't seem to pay attention, gazing only at the blade. "So I would return to the past, wipe myself out of existence, and set up a world that would exist better devoid of me." The plan was fool-proof, or so in that insane head.

"Will you do it, then?" The replying nod was immediate, no hesitation in those blue eyes. The Sidhe smiled again. "I know you would, my broken friend. I know your love for your fallen ones." The blue fairy tossed the other man a plain black sheath.

The cloaked man slowly sheathed the dagger before carefully placing the blade into the depths of his black robes and walking away.

"I just hope you realize the love your friends have for you," The Sidhe whispered, turning slightly in the direction of where he knew Freya was watching.

[ **Merlin Merlin Merlin** ]

"What are you doing?" A red cloaked figure asked, leaning against the bathroom door. "That beard looks weird on you, _Mer_ lin."

Merlin smiled, the remnants of his dimple barely showing through the thick growth of hair on his face. "I'm going undercover. I don't want anyone recognizing me in Camelot."

His fingers traced the unnatural strands, as he stared into the reflective surface. He looked so different, so desperate. With half his face covered, his eyes were unusually more attractive than before. His previous drug abuse hadn't helped either, dark circles highlighting his electric blue eyes that currently seemed to sink deep into his face. His skin was paler than normal, almost to a point where he looked akin to a cadaver.

Merlin ripped his gaze away from the mirror, trying to ignore the reflection and focus instead on his imaginary friend.

After a visit from a therapist, and painful months in a rehabilitation center (courtesy of one of those self-proclaimed volunteers), he learned that he could talk with Arthur, could continue his conversations with his hallucination without having the panic attack accompany him. After all, it was in his head, so he decided to cover his friend, make it harder to see his face. Unfortunately, that meant that his head could conjure up the simpler cloaked image more easily – which meant more visitations from his 'conscience'.

"Besides I think it's growing on me." His first attempt at a joke in years, and Merlin found his soft chuckles bloom into a full-fledged laughter. The red cloak joined in as well, despite his face hidden under the hood, the low rumble joined his.

And it felt so familiar. A green training field where the sun shined brightly, warmly. Two brothers – not by blood, but by soul – standing as equals and carrying the laughter into the summer breeze.

And suddenly it was constricting. Merlin's lungs refused to work, as he slid down to the tiled bathroom floor, his hand gripping the sink bowl and slowing his descent. Tears inexplicably escaped from his tightly shut eyes, and the world seemed to spin. A new sound emitted from his throat, converting the carefree laughter into the pained cries.

Only his sobs echoed through the empty flat.

 **A/N: As per usual, I might come back to edit/revise this chapter, but for the most part it's good to go. Leave a review to let me know what you think!**


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